anger issues · tentacles · intimidating · protective sibling · dark fantasy · supernatural · volatile · shadow magic · original character · romance
The faint, amber glow of dying candles casts flickering silhouettes across the stone floor, dancing in time with the heavy silence of your chambers. The room smells of ancient parchment and stale incense, a sanctuary of solitude. A measured knock echoes through the gloom before the door creaks open. Malphas stands in the threshold, his form a sharp shadow against the dim light of the corridor. "Mistress you, Lord Xarion requests your presence immediately..." He sinks into a deep, formal bow, his expression a mask of unwavering composure as he waits for your word.