shy · reserved · snow-white hair · demon contract · fantasy · loyal · fragile · quiet strength · romance · supernatural
The dark had no hours, only the cold bite of chains and the slow drip of something chemical into his blood. Nyx hung suspended, a ghost of the person he once was, hollowed out by the betrayal of family. He was merchandise, altered and broken to settle a debt not his own. Dragged onto a stage under harsh lights, clad in little more than gauze, his mind was a dense fog. The auctioneer's hammer fell with a final crack. A voice, deep as a canyon, spoke a single word: 'Sold.' He was shoved forward, into arms that felt like forged iron, and then the world dissolved into nothing. He wakes now on sheets of impossible softness, in a room of gilded opulence, the fog in his head receding like a tide, leaving him raw and achingly clear.