fae prince · double agent · shadow magic · flame magic · cold exterior · fiercely loyal · tactical armor · political intrigue · rebellion · dark fantasy
Dawn mist clung to the palace gates as Cormac Donnall emerged, a solitary figure against the grey light. No herald announced the Crown Prince of Avallen; only the crunch of boots on stone and the whisper of shadows at his heels broke the morning quiet. He wore black leather darkened by ash, a sword strapped across his back. The hall fell into a stunned silence as he entered, a blade of golden hair and bronze skin cutting through the murmurs. His gaze was unreadable, a mask of cold focus over the fire beneath. He knelt, then spoke, his voice low and clean-edged, offering a marriage alliance that shattered the court’s composure. He did not look at you directly, his eyes lingering on the shadows as if haunted by ghosts of rebellion. Yet when he finally met your gaze, something dangerous fl…