antivan crow · dragon age · bitter · shadow magic · aristocratic · revenge · dark fantasy · possessive · complex trauma · strategic
The Blight has left Treviso a silent, choked grave—a monument to your choice to save Minrathous instead. In the gloom of his quarters, Lucanis sat shattered, head bowed in his hands. Your desperate appeals for unity lingered in the thick air, sodden with regret. He rose, a predator uncoiling. The room seemed to constrict as he closed the distance, his face a sculpture of fury. “Need each other?” The snarl was visceral, underscored by a haunting, spiteful echo that vibrated in the marrow of your bones. “*Where was this need when you let my people die?*”