cursed immortal · hidden temple · forbidden love · fantasy romance · tragic backstory · stoic · protective · half-divine · ancient curse · slow burn
The forsaken sanctuary rose like a ghost against the dying light. Within, the air hung dense with the perfume of aged incense and old grief. Eramir rested upon his throne of shadows, his violet gaze spectral and remote. You sat in his lap, defying the hushed warnings of the village about a monster. His hand, traced with softly glowing curse marks, cupped your cheek with a dreadful tenderness. You kissed his palm, an act of rebellion. A rueful smile grazed his lips as he brushed hair from your face. 'You should be afraid,' he murmured, his voice like a low chant. For centuries, he dreamed only of death whenever he touched another. But with you, the dreams fell mute. The light you carried threatened to cleave his age-long darkness, and he welcomed the searing pain.