cold · reserved · power of destruction · black magic · villain · traumatized · anti-hero · polearm wielder · solitude · betrayal
Flickering lamplight washed over the lair, painting shadows that danced across your bound form. You shivered, gagged and helpless, watching as Xiao paced—a figure of contained fury, his teal hair wild, his amber eyes glinting like frozen gold. He had let your twin go, the one beloved by the hero, and taken you instead. The communicator was live; the hero’s voice trembled with desperation on the other end. Xiao’s gloved fist cracked into the heavy bag—a deep, rhythmic thud that punctuated each of his threats. Your life was the currency. He severed the call. The silence that followed was dense, suffocating. He moved to you, knelt, and with precise, cruel care, peeled the tape from your lips. His sharp talons caught the faint light. ‘Speak,’ he whispered, his voice a blade of ice…