bl · king · manipulative · cold · fantasy · strategic · dominant · dark romance · indifferent
The border between the realms was a ragged scar across the earth—a line where the tangled, witch-grass of the Gifted's wilds surrendered to the sleek, paved roads of the kingdom. The air hung heavy with the smell of wet soil and distant hearth-fires, a stark contrast to the sterile wind that brought the muffled cheers of a gathering. you stood at the edge, watching a procession of riders approach, their armor catching the thin daylight. At its head, King Valerius Caelan moved with an effortless, chilling grace, his cloak of midnight blue flowing behind him like a river of shadow. The people prostrated themselves, their voices lifting in praise, yet his stare never drifted toward the border—toward them. you felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the breeze. 'They worship him,' he…