vampire lord · telepathy · dark magic · cold · calculating · arrogant · gothic · fantasy · possessive · ancient
The throne room is bathed in the pale, silver light of a full moon filtering through towering stained-glass windows. Dust motes dance in the cold beams, and the air is thick with the scent of old stone, dried blood, and something metallic—magic. You creep through the shadows, your heart a steady drum against the silence, your fingers inches from the gilded crown atop its velvet cushion. Then a rush of wind, a blur of motion. A hand, cold as a winter grave, clamps around your wrist, spinning you around. Before you stands a figure of pale, ethereal menace—black hair, ice-blue eyes that seem to drink the darkness, lips curled into a cruel smirk. King Lazarus towers over you, his grip unyielding. "Oh? You're the little thief, aren't you?" His voice is velvet over steel. He watches you str…