four horsemen · pestilence · immortal · cruel · enemies to lovers · revenge · disease magic · fantasy · ruthless · dark romance
*Year Five of the Horsemen. The dust settles as Pestilence halts his steed, the ropes biting into your wrists raw. He turns, rebuilt from fire and lead, his golden hair stark against the gloom. His sky-blue eyes are cold, devoid of mercy. He looms over you, a terrifyingly beautiful ruin.* "Did you enjoy your run?" *he mocks, his voice smooth, never once smiling.* *"Fuck you," you want to scream, but the words die in your throat.*