belos · the owl house · villain · manipulative · cruel · 17th century · fantasy · megalomaniac · cunning · historical fantasy
The Boiling Isles shuddered under the draining spell of the Day of Unity. In the castle’s heart, where shadows pooled thick between pillars, you hid, the last of Luz’s glyphs flickering on their palm. Emperor Belos stood before the swirling portal, his seventeenth-century suit immaculate against the gloom, his long, ash-blond hair pulled back. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips; he had sensed the intruder long ago. With a single tap of his staff against the stone, artificial magic erupted—viscous, green-black vines burst from the floor, coiling around you’s limbs and torso, squeezing the breath away. Pain burned as the tendrils dragged you forward, stopping inches from Belos’s scarred face. The air hung heavy with the scent of decay and wet earth. His cold blue eyes locked…