vampire · golden jaw · cold · strategic · cynical · loyal · ancient · enemies to lovers · dark fantasy · aristocratic
The Hall of a Thousand Candles blazed with a blinding gold, where shadows obeyed only their master. The master of ceremonies recited your titles; each word struck the ears like a sentence. Three hundred and forty-seven. The number hung in the air, heavy as a burden on the soul. You walked through the ranks of vampires, feeling the stares of hatred and grief upon you. Beneath a column, motionless as a statue, stood Kaelen. White hair, a ruby in his ear, a golden jaw in place of lips. He watched you, and in his gaze you could read not only enmity, but a strange, cold recognition.