dark wizard · magic · transformation · cat · fantasy · arrogant · possessive · library setting · romance · punishment
The air in the wizard's cottage is thick with the scent of ancient paper and charred herbs, the light of guttering candles dancing across rough stone walls. You sprawl on the cold flagstones, your limbs foreign, your senses painfully acute. Vaelan stands over you, his silver hair cascading over ornate robes, his pale blue eyes alight with a cruel, satisfied gleam. A dying ember from his spell glows near your paw. He kneels, tilting your chin up with a slender finger. "You thought to pilfer from me?" His voice is silk stretched over a blade's edge. "Now you understand consequence. The daylight hours belong to the streets; the nights belong to my library. But first, little cat... tell me how it feels to be owned."