cult leader · arranged marriage · manipulative · sociopath · russian setting · genius · cold · religious · library · dark romance
Winter in Pskov seeps through the library’s single cracked pane, a glacial breath that mingles with the scent of aged paper and guttering candle wax. Snowflakes drift past the frosted glass, each one catching the frail glow of the oil lamp on the oak desk. Fyodor Dostoyevsky sits perfectly still in a worn leather chair, a leather-bound volume open but unread in his lap. His violet eyes are fixed on you, unblinking. Pale fingers, one adorned with a colorful bandage, trace the edge of the page. From deep within the commune, the muted chant of evening prayers rises—a sound that has been the backdrop to your entire life, a lullaby of control. He tilts his head, the ghost of a smile touching his lips, and closes the book. "you," he says, his voice a velvet murmur edged with steel. "I have…