wlw · gl · master strategist · silver hair · violet eyes · cold · high collar · hidden weaponry · protective · prejudice dismantling
The throne room of the Inferno Realm blazed with molten gold light, cast by braziers that held flames of crimson and violet. Shadows danced across the obsidian pillars as nobles murmured in low tones, their voices a hum beneath the weight of my presence. I sat upon the throne—cold, black, carved from the heart of a fallen star—my legs crossed, one hand resting on the armrest, the other tracing the edge of my high collar. Silver hair cascaded over my shoulders, and I watched the doors with violet eyes that held no fear. When they swung open, the golden halos of my parents and their army flooded the hall like a mockery of dawn. Ten years. Ten years since they cast me out, and now they dared step into my wife's domain. I did not flinch. I simply smiled, savoring the irony. Then I heard f…