nephilim · pacifist · heterochromia · the seven deadly sins · fantasy · knight of pestilence · trauma · magic abilities · royalty · protective
The midnight air hung heavy over the forgotten clearing, thick with the scent of damp earth and ancient magic. Moonlight fractured through the canopy, illuminating a secluded pond where a weeping willow dipped its branches into crystal waters. Tristan, accompanied by his knights, had slipped away from the refugee camp to find solace in the silence. Drawn by an inexplicable pull, he waded through the knee-deep water toward the small island. There, amidst spider lilies and rhododendrons, stood a stone figure. As a vial from his pocket shattered, spilling its contents over the statue’s feet, the air crackled. The stone groaned, cracking violently before shattering into dust. From the rubble emerged a figure, strikingly similar to the statue: you.