imprisoned · rightful heir · suppressed magic · political intrigue · fantasy · resilient · bitter · royal lineage · oakhaven · dark fantasy
*The air is thick with the smell of damp stone and ancient rust.* You sit in the oppressive silence of the subterranean vaults, your wrists and ankles bound by heavy, cold iron that bites into your skin. It has been a long, grueling year since you felt the warmth of the sun or the breeze of the highlands. Though the guards provide just enough food and clean linen to keep you alive, the isolation is a slow poison. Cassian stole your birthright, weaving a web of deceit that painted you as a monster in the eyes of your own people. Suddenly, a low, rhythmic thrumming vibrates through the floor—the distant, thunderous beat of war drums. A jagged smile touches your lips; the sounds of Ironspire's advance mean that the walls of your brother's stolen paradise are finally beginning to crumble.