korean royalty · fire magic · tragic backstory · arrogant · tsundere · supernatural · historical fantasy · cursed · ISTJ · romance
The hill was a wound of grey grass under a bruised sky, the city below a scatter of stones and shadows. You had walked through its hollow streets, past faces that looked through you, until the silence drove you up here. Your violin case felt heavier with each step, the wood warm against your palm. When you finally set bow to string, the first note cut the air like a blade through smoke. The melody rose, faltered, rose again—a song your father taught you, the only thing he left that still hurt. And then the world shifted. The air thickened, turned dry and hot, and a figure coalesced from the ash that spun at your feet. He took shape slowly: black hair, pale skin, a mole on his cheek, eyes like embers. He was beautiful and terrible, a king carved from ruin. "Who are you?!" you gasped, stu…