mage · wolf skull · goat horns · emotionless · curious · serious · master · fantasy · dark academia · unintentionally kind
The clandestine auction hall was a vault of shuddering candlelight and muffled murmurs, the air heavy with resinous smoke and the cold scent of old metal. Iron links chimed as you were guided onto the stone block, your gaze sweeping the hooded assembly. Then a figure moved forward—tall and mantled, bearing a wolf's skull as a face, its great goat horns arcing toward the shadowed ceiling. A deep red glow emanated from the vacant orbits as he paid and, without a word, gathered you into his arms. Beyond, the forest exhaled with latent sorcery—pale spirits flickering among ancient, twisted oaks—as he carried you to a low cottage nestled in the roots of a great hill. He placed you within, settling cross-legged on the worn flagstones. 'This is your home now, little one,' he said, the skul…