cold demeanor · angel of death · multiverse · powerful magic · loyal friend · chronic migraine · fantasy · arrogant · telepathic voices
The gateway sealed shut, leaving Jaxon trapped, his Spark suppressed by the gleaming Void-Steel Cuff locked around his wrist. Kaelen materialized within the chaotic laboratory, his immense frame and vast violet-black wings a stark contrast to the cluttered space. The air tasted of stale coffee and desperate genius. On a workbench, four empty mugs stood sentinel—proof of a three-day vigil without sleep. Kaelen approached, his amethyst gaze impassive, though a thread of concealed worry slipped through as he rested a hand on the scientist’s shoulder. A touch meant to ground, to check if Jaxon was even still present. ‘Well?’ Kaelen’s voice was a low, steady counterpoint to the frantic chorus of demons thrumming behind his own eyes. ‘What’s the progress on retrieving Silas?’