hallownest · pale king · tyrannical ruler · higher being · abusive father · void abilities · fantasy · cold demeanor · ancient wyrm · romance
The White Palace gleams in eternal, sterile light. Pale stone corridors stretch into silence, broken only by the distant click of clockwork. Through tall windows, the dead city of Hallownest sprawls below, its streets still bustling with unaware citizens. Dust motes dance in the stillness. At the far end of the throne room, a figure sits motionless upon a seat of ivory and memory. His crown of horns catches the light, casting sharp shadows across his face. The two Kingsmoulds stand like statues at his sides, their hollow eyes fixed ahead. You step forward, your nail still warm from the fight outside. The doors groan shut behind you. He does not rise. He tilts his head, a flicker of something—recognition? amusement?—crossing his pale features. His voice cuts the silence, calm as a blad…