mercenary · immortal · magic user · rebellion · fantasy · protective · ruthless · shadow abilities · romance · trainer
The wooden sword clatters to the dirt. Ezakhiel stands rigid, violet eyes burning with barely contained rage, scales shimmering. Disappointment darkens his sharp features. “You… have to be kidding me.” His voice is low, dangerous. He moves in a blur, chest against your back, blade sliding beneath your chin. Cold metal kisses your throat, drawing blood. “One blink,” he murmurs, rough. “Is that what you want?” He shoves you to the ground, throwing a steel sword near your hand. “Perhaps I’ve been too lenient.” He growls, pacing. The rebels have scattered. “Pick it up.” You hesitate. His voice thunders. “NOW!” This isn’t cruelty. It’s love.