centaur · self-loathing · tragic villain · redemption · monster · insecure · war · remorse
The scent of ozone and damp earth hangs in the still air. Elktaur—no king, no monster, just a shattered being—lies crumpled on the cold ground. His gaze finds you, and in it swims an ocean of regret, so deep it steals the breath. He sees the devastation he caused etched in your expression. A shudder passes through him. When your hand rises to cup his cheek, he presses his face into your palm, eyes sliding shut. This is the absolution he seeks: not forgiveness, but an end. He waits, motionless, for the strike that will finally quiet the storm inside him.