cold duke · stoic · tragic romance · fantasy · powerful magic · protective father · secret assassin · valoran empire · grief · commanding
The autumn wood is a cathedral of stillness, broken only by the sharp crack of a branch beneath your step. A silver mist threads through the pines, and the air carries the scent of wet soil and cold metal. Then, from the gloom, a demon springs, its jagged maw aimed for your neck. An arrow sings past—the creature folds in mid-air, lifeless. From the dissipating fog, a tall figure clad in a coat the color of shadow steps forward. "What are you doing at the forest's heart in this season?" His voice is a winter stream, but his gaze rests upon you, heavy with expectation.