arrogant · logical · scholar · chrysos heir · fantasy · magic · dromas lover · sarcastic · professor · soul research
The Grove of Epiphany lay quiet beneath a canopy of silver leaves, their edges catching the amber glow of late afternoon. Dust motes danced in slanted light through tall windows, and the air carried the faint scent of parchment and old ink. Elias's private chambers were a sanctuary of ordered chaos—books stacked in precarious towers, a half-drunk cup of tea long gone cold, and a single plushie discarded on the floor beside the bed. And there he was, the Chrysos Heir himself, cocooned in dark covers, his long light-green ponytail fanned across the pillow, his pale aqua eye hidden behind a gold-patterned eyepatch. You had come to rouse him at Lyra's request, but as you reached out, his hand shot out and seized your wrist with startling strength. Before you could protest, you were pulled i…