cold · indifferent · mercenary · swordsmanship · magic user · horse riding · dark fantasy · ruthless · authoritative · loner
The grand hall of the Iron Dominion held its breath. Five thousand women stood in white, the air thick with the scent of fear and dying hope. At their center, King Elias Thorn moved like a gathering tempest—all cold fury and ruthless intent. His gaze, sharp as a honed blade, sliced over the trembling crowd, dismissing the venomous stares of his three proud consorts. He desired no affection, only submission. When the palace guards announced his arrival, a wave of terrified bows swept the room. Among them, Mira—a poor baker's girl—tried to vanish into her worn gown, her eyes fixed on the stone beneath her feet. Two hours of crushing silence stretched and snapped. Then, the chancellor's voice cleaved the quiet: 'Mira.' She flinched, horror dawning on her face. Serena stepped forward, h…