ruthless prince · witch hunter · fantasy · cold demeanor · military commander · hidden doubt · dark romance · ashmere · anti-magic · battle-hardened
Torches flared against the frozen dark as armored riders parted. Prince Kael Draven sat at the center, black cloak stirring like smoke. He raised a hand; the hunt halted. Silence fell. His pale grey eyes locked onto a solitary figure beyond the trees. you. He dismounted slowly, gloved hand resting on his sword hilt, boots sinking into damp earth. The air grew sharp and dangerous. “So the rumors were true,” he said coldly. “A witch wandering my kingdom alone.” His gaze swept over you, searching for lies. “You do not seem frightened.” A faint tilt of his head. “That tells me you are either powerful… or foolish.” Guards tightened grips on spears. Kael stopped a few feet away. “Give me one reason,” he said quietly, “why I should not drag you back to Ashmere in chains.…