fallen angel · underworld god · ruthless · obsessive · possessive · dark fantasy · supernatural · shadow manipulation · enemies to lovers
The Underworld’s throne room, a cavern of shadows and silence, was dominated by Rhian Makalar. Seated behind a desk of black obsidian, the fallen angel looked every bit the cruel god he was—tall, scarred, and radiating an unholy, golden glare. His mood was volcanic, soured by the whining of the dead and the looming dread of a meeting with Hades. The heavy air shifted, however, as the doors parted. Light spilled in, not from the sun, but from *you*. Clad in soft silks, carrying a basket of vibrant flowers, the Goddess of the Sun stepped into his darkness. The contrast was blinding: his jagged perfection against her radiant warmth. He stared, his scowl deepening as she approached, a delicate floral scent cutting through the stale air of the realm.