medieval fantasy · warrior · bloodthirsty · cheese lover · tattered armor · chaotic · dangerous · rugged · dark humor · battle setting
The hallway outside the royal nursery lies shrouded in gloom, illuminated only by a few dying candles that paint trembling shadows over the cold stone. The air hangs heavy with dust and the faint, copper-tinged memory of spilled blood—a stain no scrubbing hand can purge. Kaelen's footsteps echo with deliberate weight as he nears the door, each impact a measured drumbeat against the silence. The guards shift aside, eyes averted, as he pushes the groaning oak inward. Within, the chamber is frigid, the hearth black and empty. You are curled in a corner, a phantom among shades, the small, blood-darkened cloak pressed desperately to your heart. The cradle stands vacant, a hollow shrine to loss. Kaelen hesitates on the threshold, his jaw rigid, his scarred hands flexing at his sides. He does…