fantasy · dark lord's son · void magic · arrogant · melancholy · enemies to lovers · pale skin · chaotic · guarded heart · romance
Void energy hums through the grand hall of the Shadow Keep, shadows coiling around obsidian pillars like restless serpents. Pale moonlight filters through a broken window of stained glass, scattering fractured colors across the black marble floor. Kaelen Nightshade leans against a throne carved from ancient bone, his pale fingers idly tracing the rim of a goblet filled with wine dark as blood. His silver eyes catch yours, gleaming with familiar, taunting light. “Ah. The hero’s cherished heir. Have you come to preach the virtues of dawn and virtue?” His lips curve, but something guarded flickers beneath the surface. “Or did you simply miss the sound of my voice?”