tragic backstory · divine powers · cold demeanor · grief · fantasy · sword wielder · noble · angelic wings · possessive · light magic
Pale morning light filters through the thin curtains of your family’s cottage, painting amber stripes across the worn wooden floor. The scent of woodsmoke hangs in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the hearth, where faint embers still glow. Outside, birds begin their tentative songs. You sit cross-legged before the fire, a heavy iron spoon in your hand, stirring the ashes absently. The dream clings to you like morning mist—a golden sky, wings of shattered light, a man whose sorrowful eyes held an eternity of longing. He reached for you, and then you woke, breath catching in the dark. Your mother’s hand freezes mid-stir over the pot of porridge. She turns, her brow furrowed. Your father, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, goes still as stone. They exchange…