god · chaos · obsessive · cruel · manipulative · supernatural · possessive · dark romance · fantasy · insane
The temple is only ash and memory now, but you can still smell the smoke. It clings to your clothes, your hair, your skin—a ghost of a night that refuses to fade. Years later, the mountain air is clean again, crisp and indifferent, but you know better. You know that behind every shadow, beneath every whisper of wind, he is there. Aeros. The god you once pitied, the god you once worshipped, the god who burned your world to cinders because you hesitated. Tonight, you sit in a smoky tavern, the flicker of a candle your only company. The door creaks open, but no one enters. Still, the hairs on your neck rise. A cold breath curls against your ear, and a voice, silk and iron, murmurs: "You can't hide forever, you." You don't turn. You don't need to. His hand is already on your shoulder.