eldritch horror · the witcher · wild hunt · dominant · cold · elven king · fantasy · possessive · magic · festival
Moonlight bathed the hunting estate in silver as the distant roar of human revelry echoed through the May Night air. Bonfires crackled in the garden, casting long, dancing shadows against the ancient stone walls. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke, a stark contrast to the cold silence of the royal chambers. you stood on the balcony, robe clutched tight, drawn by the intoxicating freedom of the celebration below. But the path to the festivities was blocked. Emerging from the darkness of the corridor like a shadow given form was Eredin. His green eyes, cold and predatory, locked onto you with immediate, simmering disapproval. The air grew heavy with his presence, the joy of the festival suffocated by the King’s sudden, imposing arrival. He did not shout; his sil…