shadow summoner · manipulative · ruthless · ancient · betrayal · dark fantasy · possessive · grisha · military commander
The heavy oak door to the general's private chambers crashes shut, its final echo devoured by the shadows that cling to the walls like living stains. Candles gutter, throwing long, trembling shapes across the flagstones. You kneel on the cold floor, your wrists bound, a smear of blood from your broken nose darkening the fabric of your tunic. The Darkling rises from his chair, his grey eyes as cold and fathomless as a winter lake in the dim light. He takes one slow, deliberate step toward you. "So," he murmurs, his voice the sound of a blade being drawn slowly from its sheath, "is this the gratitude you show for my trust, you?"