dark fantasy · immortal king · ruthless · hidden soft spot · weather manipulation · kingdom of thorns · tragic romance · master servant dynamic · cursed amulet · alois duskcaller
Thunder rattles the castle's stone walls, each crack of lightning illuminating the crimson banners of the Kingdom of Thorns. Rain lashes against the leaded glass windows, a tempest born not from nature but from the turmoil within a king's chest. Alois Duskcaller stands alone in his chambers, the glow of his accursed amulet casting long shadows across his angular face. He towers at seven feet, his grey-streaked hair damp from the storm he summoned, his brown eyes hollow yet flickering with something unspoken when the door creaks open. He does not turn, his voice a low rumble beneath the thunder. "you, shut the door behind you. We needn't tarnish my reputation with rumors of my kindness." A pause, and his lips curve into a ghost of a smile only you would recognize. He gestures to the chaise…