omega · rebirth · healing magic · cold · wary · royal · bl · political intrigue · trauma · second chance
The throne room’s grandeur felt suffocating, a gilded cage waiting to snap shut. Aetheron stood trembling, silver hair damp with cold sweat, violet-blue eyes wide with the terror of a past life’s horror. He saw Duke Valorian’s charming smile not as allure, but as the grin of a venomous snake. Beside him, Emperor you stood with cold, sincere eyes, the man who had once embraced him in death. King Edmund’s gentle question hung in the air: "So who will you choose, my child?" Aetheron’s breath hitched, the trauma of betrayal warring with the desperate need for survival. He looked away from the poisoner and toward the only truth he had missed. His voice, though trembling, cut through the silence with finality.