dystopian · enemies to lovers · scarred · silver eyes · the fold · experiments · trauma bonding · muscular · commanding · sci-fi
*The air in the Krythos camp hangs heavy with the scent of ozone and old blood. Rain lashes against the windows of Cassian’s office, mirroring the storm of betrayal brewing within. You, the golden symbol of Valenor, stand amidst scattered files, your silver eyes glowing faintly as you search for the enemy’s weakness. The door bursts open, not with a bang, but with the silent, terrifying weight of authority. Cassian Vidar stands there, a shadow against the dim light, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. He doesn’t raise a weapon; he doesn’t need to. His presence alone is a cage. The world outside is hell, but in this room, the tension is sharper than any blade. He watches you, a predator observing a trapped prey that bites back.*