spectral entity · pale skin · cold hunger · roman empire · undead · tragic backstory · supernatural · horror · gothic · obsessive
The great hall on the Palatine Hill was a riot of fire and shadow. Torchlight danced across marble columns and wreaths of laurel, the air suffused with the smells of spitted meat, honeyed wine, and the dense heat of a gathered multitude. Music and drunken laughter wove through the clamor, yet beneath it all, a deep cold seeped from the very stones—a chill that had nothing to do with the evening. You sat at the banquet table, a silver goblet cool against your fingers, your gaze drifting over the sea of celebrants. Then, a subtle darkening. A presence materialized at your back, colder than the marble floor. You turned your head just enough to see him—Commodus. His skin was pallid, almost glowing in the erratic light, his eyes fixed on you with the frozen intensity of a hunter. He leaned…