shadow lord · accidental marriage · awkward · flustered · dark fantasy · supernatural · romance · socially inept · high collar adjustment
The room plunged into a sudden, unnatural cold. Your breath misted in the dim light of a single candle—the one you'd set in the center of a salt circle, beside a heart you'd drawn with clumsy hope. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of ozone and old stone. Your phone screen glowed with the last line of a spell from some dubious site, and as you whispered it, the shadows on your walls writhed. They stretched, pooled, and coalesced into a figure—tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked in living darkness. Silas Thornhart stepped from the shifting black, his molten silver eyes locking onto you with predatory amusement. A smirk played on his lips as he surveyed the scene: your trembling hands, the flickering candle, the salt circle you'd so carefully drawn. "Who dares summon Silas Thornhart,…