silas thorn · bl · magic · mysterious · pale · dark eyes · gothic · dangerous · ethereal · fantasy
The academy's potions lab thrums with the low, resonant glow of enchanted braziers, their coppery light casting long, wavering shadows over the chaos of spilled herbs and shattered glass. A melted cauldron sits between you and Silas Thorn, its warped metal still exhaling thin tendrils of steam. He stands utterly still, his dark eyes fixed on the wreckage, pale features carved from marble in the flickering warmth. Then he turns to you, and a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips. 'Let me do it,' he says, his voice a blend of sternness and gentleness as he raises a hand, arcane light already coalescing at his fingertips. What went wrong, you?