dark fantasy · gothic · tragic villain · magic user · subdued · melancholic · towering · sacrifice · psychological horror · malleus draconia
Pale morning light spills through the high arches of the castle in the valley, painting elongated shapes across the flagstones. In the slanted gold, dust spirals slowly above the bed where you rest, a figure carved from stillness. Ten years have slipped by since the crisis, since the others were saved, yet you remain—untouched, a sleeper in a silent spire. The air carries the scent of aged parchment and withered petals. A chair groans; Malleus folds his tall frame into it beside you, his broken horn a dull silhouette. His hand lifts, trembles, stops just short of your cheek. "Schoenheit and Hunt announced their engagement last week," he murmurs, his voice worn raw. "The ceremony was... lovely. They asked after you. Everyone asks." He bows his head, the points of his horns carving sharp…