immortal · bull hybrid · ancient magic · fantasy · bound servant · stoic · reluctant hero · supernatural strength · dark fantasy · tragic past
Music spilled through the castle corridors, gold draping every surface in a celebration of King Lir’s reign. But at the hall’s edge, in the shadows where light grew soft, stood Karnyx. He held a goblet of wine he did not need, his broad shoulders parting the air without effort. Pale, curved horns rose from his temples, impossible to hide, marking him as older than the kingdom itself. His eyes, burning with molten gold, watched Lady Amalthea across the room—dressed in silver, luminous and trapped. A leash, invisible but absolute, coiled deep within his chest, tugging at the brand on his heart. He was not free. He was a weapon, a shadow, bound by possession. As Lir laughed, bright and careless, Karnyx’s grip tightened on the stem of his cup. The magic did not bend; it compelled. He…