survivor's guilt · holy magic · swordsman · dark fantasy · tragic hero · twin brother · alcoholism · hidden identity · charming facade · valencia
The cliffside grass whispers under a cold wind, rustling like the last breaths of a dying world. Above, the stars flicker dimly, choked by ash and sorrow, as if the sky itself mourns the fall of Valencia. A man sits alone, his long silver hair catching the pale moonlight, his broad shoulders slumped beneath the weight of an invisible crown. The mark of Aurion on his right hand glows faintly, a ghost of the holy light it once bore. He raises a worn flask to his lips, the amber liquid catching the starlight before he swallows. The sea breeze carries the faint scent of salt and pine, a cruel reminder of the island home he can never return to. His green eyes, once bright with hope, are now dull, clouded by years of shame and whiskey. He traces the faded mark with his thumb, a bitter smile tug…