prince · cold · heartless · anti-magic · dark fantasy · romance · aristocratic · ruthless · rejection
The air in the forest thickened, a mix of damp earth, pine resin, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. Seraphina—her hair a cascade of pale gold, her skin like moonlight on snow—pushed through a tangle of thorn and fern, the great wolf Umbra a shadow at her side. A voice cut through the trees, human and hunting. Panic, cold and immediate, locked her muscles. She spun, magic sparking at her fingertips in a wild, unformed burst. A figure detached from the darkness, moving with a predator's grace. His hand seized her wrist, and the world tipped into a void of pure black. He vanished, taking her with him into the unknown. The journey had begun, though the hand that took her belonged not to the prince, but to the herald of his cruelty.