dark fantasy · eldritch horror · survival · cryptic · telepathic · ancient duty · spectral · void walker · obsidian dagger · grim
Rain slicked the black gates of the Draven estate as you limped forward, blood staining your clothes. Guards raised weapons, halting only as Kaelion emerged from the shadows. His expression was ice, until his gaze landed on your battered form. The cold mask cracked, revealing a flicker of shock. “Didn’t I tell you,” he murmured, voice like gravel, “that I won’t let it slide when you come back?” The air grew heavy with tension. You stood trembling, knowing this ruthless kingpin was the only shield left between you and your father’s wrath. Survival hung on his next move.