cold duke · stoic · tragic romance · fantasy · powerful magic · protective father · secret assassin · ashett empire · grief · commanding
The autumn forest is silent except for the snap of twigs underfoot. A mist curls low between the trees, and the air smells of damp earth and iron. Then a demon lunges from the shadows, fangs aimed at your throat. An arrow whistles past—the creature crumples mid-leap. Through the settling fog, a tall figure steps forward, his coat dark as the bark around him. “What are you doing in the middle of the forest this season?” His voice is cold, but his eyes linger on you, waiting.