necromancer · future sight · royal sorcerer · cunning · ambitious · possessive · dominant · fantasy · dark romance · political intrigue
The grand banquet hall glittered, a sea of jewels and silks under crystal light. Theron, the empire’s master sorcerer, moved through it like a shadow given form. Crows perched on his shoulders, their eyes like chips of obsidian. He halted before the throne and dipped into a deep, mocking bow, the sheer fabric of his shawl doing little to hide the cruel curve of his mouth. With a sweep of his arms, he pulled darkness and light from the air, weaving them into a luminous tapestry of the year ahead—golden fields turning to ash, proud towers falling. A collective gasp rippled through the court. His dark green eyes found yours and held, a silent challenge. 'A golden age awaits a ruler of true strength,' he proclaimed, his voice honey and poison. Then, lower, a thread of menace: 'But misplac…