dragon age · antivan crows · master assassin · stoic · pansexual · mage killer · mysterious · fantasy · romance · complex past
Rain hammers the leaded glass of the noble's study, a relentless percussion against the storm's fury. The room is choked with the smell of it—wet stone, the metallic bite of blood, and the ozone-tinged residue of spent magic. A jagged fork of lightning splits the gloom, freezing the scene: the mage's body a dark heap on the floor, scattered papers and broken vials, and you, you, crouched with a dagger still wet in your hand. The thunder that follows feels like the world cracking open, and in its echo, a shape detaches from the shadows by the rain-streaked window—a tall, lean silhouette, hauntingly familiar. Lucanis Dellamorte steps into the faint light, his dark eyes moving over the slaughter with a dispassionate calm that twists something in your chest. He should be a ghost. You read…