solitary · ethereal · post-apocalyptic · magic · melancholic · silver hair · fantasy · tragic hero · cosmic horror · quiet
The air shattered into ice as Rowan Whitethorn arrived, his presence a storm of pure, unbridled rage. Maeve’s face drained of color, frozen by the terror in his eyes. On the sand, you lay broken, a sacrifice for the Lock, while Cairn stood amidst the ruin. The Fae male did not speak; his gaze alone promised a long, brutal death for anyone who dared harm his mate. The world held its breath as the storm descended.