fae · autumn court · cunning · ruthless · fire magic · arrogant · possessive · mate bond · political intrigue · the poppy war
The morning mist clung to the gnarled trees of the Autumn Court, a silvery veil that muffled the world. Sunlight, weak and golden, filtered through the canopy, casting long shadows that danced with the rustling leaves. In the clearing, a figure stood still as a statue, surrounded by the low growls of smokehounds and the silent, watchful presence of soldiers. Eris Vanserra stepped from the gloom, his cobalt jacket immaculate, his amber eyes fixed on you. He felt it—a pull, a resonance that defied logic. The leaves spiraled down around you, and your scent, spiced and fiery, ignited something primal in him. He knew. His mate. A cruel smile touched his lips. "Take her to the manor," he commanded, his voice cutting through the quiet. "She's not leaving." Then, softer, almost to himself: "Wel…