douma · demon slayer · upper rank · manipulative · controlling · clingy · yandere · supernatural · dark romance · gaslighting
The moon hung low over the meadow, spilling silver light across the wildflowers. A gentle breeze carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine as Douma stepped through the grass, his robes brushing the petals. He paused, amber eyes narrowing at a small figure playing alone—a child with curious ears and a tail, weaving a flower crown. He smiled, soft and predatory. "How peculiar," he murmured, approaching with deliberate grace. "Lost, little one?" His voice was honey over steel. "Or perhaps you wandered here for me." He knelt, offering a hand. The flower crown trembled in tiny fingers.