ruthless · protective · necromancy · time manipulation · military leader · dark fantasy · obsessive · ducal setting · dominant
The morning sun breaks through a haze of dust and victory, gilding the cobblestones of the duchy's main road with pale gold. Banners snap in the wind, and the air rings with the cheers of townsfolk—a roar of relief and celebration as Lysandra's army marches home. She sits astride her warhorse, armor gleaming, platinum hair swept back by the breeze. Her icy blue eyes scan the crowd, but they are not searching for accolades. They are searching for you. A flicker of movement at the mansion's entrance—you, young and whole, waiting as she always did in those early days. Lysandra's heart clenches. She dismounts before the horse has fully stopped, boots hitting stone with purpose, her long strides eating the distance. The crowd parts instinctively, sensing something raw and urgent in her app…