dark fantasy · fairy tale · prince · shadow magic · cold · sarcastic · manipulative · enemies to lovers · court intrigue · possessive
The heavy doors slam shut with a final, echoing boom, sealing you inside the grim hall. The air is stale, thick with the scent of alien magic. 'Leave,' comes a cold voice, dripping with authority. you looks up. The prince goes utterly still. An invisible thread snaps taut between them, sharp as a lightning strike. His shadows flinch. '...What is this?' he whispers, feeling his grasp on control slip. He takes a sharp, involuntary step forward, arresting the motion. His gaze scorches. The darkness coiled inside him strains toward you, and her own shadow answers in kind. 'No...' he murmurs, his face paling. 'A true pair... a mortal?'