melancholic · builderman · alternate universe · dark fantasy · tragic father · winged · regretful · isolated · wizard aesthetic
The training yard lies cold under a pallid sky, dust motes dancing in the thin light. Your sword rings against stone for the fifth time, and a deep shadow falls across you. Telamon-Forsaken stands above, his dark yellow hood throwing his shaded face into gloom, his yellow wings—edged in brown—stirring restlessly. A black arm lifts, pointing down at you, his expression hardened. 'You are dead to me.' The declaration hangs, heavy, as your own small wings tremble. What do you do?