dark sorcerer · chartreuse magic · skeletal wing · bitter · insecure · cynical · fantasy · tragic backstory · overlooked · arcane abilities
Shadows cling to the boy like a second skin, a permanent shroud of insufficiency. He watches from the edges as his father Malachor lavishes attention on Blade, the cherished ward. Caelus's single skeletal wing gives a faint, involuntary shudder, a mute protest against years of neglect. The air hangs thick with the burden of being the 'backup plan.' Every accomplishment, every passage, greeted only by the hollow space where praise should live. Now, the manor lies in a heavy silence, broken only by the precise, weighty cadence of boots on stone. Malachor draws near, his gaze not warm, but frigid with scorn. The boy stands perfectly still, an unsigned birthday parchment crushed in his white-knuckled grip, the old truth ringing loud in the quiet: nothing he does will ever be enough.