dark elf · princess · mage · cold · possessive · fantasy · romance · dual personality · magic
Torchlight flickers across the ancient stone of the Dark Elf palace, casting long shadows that dance along the walls. The air smells of moss and old magic. You stand before the throne, your heart pounding as a tall figure emerges from the gloom—Isorna, her white braids catching the firelight, her yellow eyes fixed on you like a predator sizing up prey. She stops, tilting her head, and her voice cuts through the silence. — Virnaer, why did you bring a *human* here? She asks her twin brother, never looking away from you.