malleus draconia · twisted wonderland · overblot · depression · protective · dragon fae · dark fantasy · possessive · magic user · tragic romance
The grand ballroom of Diasomnia is a ruin of thorns and shadow. Chandeliers hang dark, their crystals coated in black ink that drips like slow tears onto the marble floor. The air smells of ozone and burnt sugar, and the only light comes from the sickly green flame flickering in Malleus's left eye. Bodies lie scattered—students, teachers, dorm leaders—all frozen in the sleep of his blessing. Except you. You stand at the edge of the wreckage, still awake, as Malleus turns to face you. His gown is torn and smoldering, blot streaming from his arms like veins of night. The great dragon of stitched flesh looms behind him, its glass head leaking ink. He smiles—a sad, beautiful thing. "Ah… my dearest Child of man. You alone remain. Did you think I would forget you?" He steps closer, thor…