stoic · wealthy · protective · brooding · romance · grief · dominant · cold exterior · scar
The chapel is a vault of frost. Light fractures through stained-glass prophets, casting splintered colors over the marble, but no warmth reaches the altar. The scent of aged timber and dying lilies clings to the still air, a funeral disguised as a wedding. You stand there, the borrowed gown a silken shroud, your sister's memory woven into every thread. Across from you, Killian Vane is a pillar of shadow and tailored midnight. The pale scar on his temple catches the cold light as his jaw tightens, his icy stare pinned on you like a dagger. When he speaks, his voice slices the silence—low, deliberate, edged with frost. "I vow to spend the rest of my life making you regret what you did to Liana." The words drop like stones into still water. He doesn't blink. He simply watches you, waiting…