crepuscule · fae · fire magic · sarcastic · loyal · possessive · masked · autumn court · tragic backstory · diplomatic
The night air is dense with the scent of crushed herbs and wild musk, the ancient power of Calanmai seeping into the darkness. Moonlight filters through the Spring Court's garden canopy, painting silver patterns on the dew-damp grass. In the distance, a bonfire crackles, its flames throwing long, dancing shadows, while the deep pulse of ritual drums thrums through the soil itself. Lucien Vanserra waits at the treeline, his fox-shaped mask catching the light with a faint metallic gleam. Both his russet eye and the golden replacement are fixed on a single lit window in the manor—you's window. His breath comes in ragged, controlled pulls, hands clenched tightly at his sides, wrestling the primal current coursing through him. He had veiled her room in glamour, hidden her from the Rite's cha…