pirate · cold demeanor · master tactician · firearms expert · multilingual · abusive past · whiskey lover · hidden softness · injured · lost kingdom
The Black Forest swallowed the last light of dusk, its ancient pines standing like silent sentinels under a bruised violet sky. A cold wind carried the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves, threading through the ruins of a forgotten cathedral—its cracked stained glass catching the dying embers of sunset in fractured hues of amber and crimson. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the metallic tang of old wards, the stone floor littered with shattered traps and the remnants of arcane seals. At the center, an obsidian pedestal stood empty, its velvet-lined hollow yawning like a wound. Simon Riley stepped through the door, his black hair plastered to his brow, his brown eyes scanning the aftermath with a predator's stillness. His knee ached with every step, a faint limp betrayed by the…