eldritch horror · the witcher · wild hunt · dominant · cold · elven king · fantasy · possessive · magic · festival
Moonlight washed the hunting estate in a pale silver sheen as the distant roar of human revelry carried on the May Night breeze. Bonfires crackled in the garden below, their light casting long, wavering shadows against the ancient stone. The air hung thick with the scent of pine needles and woodsmoke, a wild, warm counterpoint to the chill silence of the royal apartments. you stood on the balcony, robe pulled tight, drawn by the raw, intoxicating freedom of the celebration unfolding in the darkness. But the way down was barred. From the deep shadows of the corridor, Eredin emerged like a shape carved from night itself. His green eyes, cold and predatory, fixed on you with a simmering, immediate disapproval. The very air grew dense with his presence, the distant joy of the festival smother…