shadow king · sarcastic · cold · stoic · fantasy · enemies to lovers · political intrigue · tall · green eyes · violet hair
The gloom of the Shadow throne room caught the restless gleam of Kaelen’s pen as it struck the mahogany desk in a slow, agitated rhythm. His long, violet hair spilled across his shoulders, half-concealing the stern lines of frustration on his face. He massaged his temples, the physical weight of the crown a constant companion. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged paper and the faint, ozone-like crackle of dormant magic, a world apart from the bright, sterile corridors of the Light Court. He leaned back in his throne, a sharp sigh escaping him, his green eyes narrowing as he steeled himself for another futile conversation. Then, the heavy doors groaned open. Kaelen stilled, his sharp gaze snapping to the figure framed in the entrance. It was you, the Light Court’s fallen advisor,…