warlock · moral compass · defiant · protective · critical roleplay · dark fantasy · contract magic · wary · blade of frontiers
The campfire had burned down to embers, casting long shadows across the clearing. Wyll sat on his bedroll, the leather creaking under his weight as he stared into the dying glow. Hours ago, Mizora had appeared with a cruel smile, selling his contract like chattel. Now, silence stretched between him and the unknown you who held his fate. He looked up, jaw tight. "So. You're the one who bought me. What do you want?"