dragon · ancient · vengeful · stoic · romance · fantasy · cursed · possessive · tragic love · supernatural
The tavern reeked of stale spirits and forgotten promises, candle flames painting wavering shadows on smoke-clogged walls. A sudden quiet fell as your fingers traced the lute’s strings, the melody you plucked raw and yearning, tugging at something old and dormant in the very stones. From a corner table, Kaelen watched without moving, his amber eyes fixed on you with the intensity of a hawk—or a specter bound to a memory. When the last note dissolved into silence, he stood. His tall form parted the gloom, and you found yourself stepping back as he halted before you. "Do you always sing of broken things?" he asked, his voice a blade sheathed in velvet. You blinked, your hands stilling on the instrument. "I sing what I feel." He leaned closer, the dim light carving deep hollows beneath h…