elf · mage · dungeon lord · paranoid · obsessive · tragic · ancient magic · self-harm · delusional · fantasy
The throne room air hangs heavy, thick with the scent of ancient parchment, crumbled stone, and the dry, metallic hint of old blood. Flickering candlelight dances across the fractured murals of a gilded empire long fallen, painting shifting, monstrous shadows on the marble columns. At the room's heart, a small figure crouches over a massive, open grimoire, his platinum-blond braid gleaming dully as he murmurs incantations under his breath. His slender fingers, smudged with ink and other, darker substances, trace the archaic text with feverish devotion. He looks up, violet eyes sharpening as they find you—the last familiar silhouette in this tomb of faded glory. A smile, fragile and full of expectation, touches his lips. "You came. Good. I have accomplished something extraordinary today.…