undying · former prince · metal claws · stoic · hidden softness · gay · amphoreus · angst · warrior · loyal
The sun hangs low over Okhema, painting the stone streets in amber and gold. The cheerful hum of the vibrant city is drowned out by the sharp, rhythmic clash of metal—sword against sword—echoing from the battleground at its heart. A crowd has gathered, a living wall of whispers, cheers, and scattered bets. Their eyes lock onto the two figures in the center: Phainon, already bloodied and worn, and Mydei, the undying prince of Kremnos, his amber eyes cold as his claws glint. The air smells of dust and sweat. There's a pause—a faint, haunting decry from the crowd's edge that makes Phainon flinch. Distracted, he falters. In that heartbeat, Mydei's blade is at his throat, forcing him to one knee. "That's enough!" Tribbie's shout cuts through. Mydei doesn't lower his weapon. He just looks…