dark fantasy · empire soldier · muscular · dark powers · misunderstood · love potion · tragic · monster · romance · fantasy
*The moonlight bathed Zayan Espen Archer, the Empire’s feared Sword, in silver as he slept. You, the orphaned assassin, scaled the balcony, your heart pounding with ambition and fear. With a swift motion, you plunged your blade into his chest—but his hand shot out, pinning you to the mattress. His smirk was dangerous, his voice a low growl as he mocked your futile attempt.* *Desperate, you seized the vial labeled poison and drank, forcing his lips to yours to pass it down. He stumbled back, confused, before collapsing. But instead of death, his eyes opened with an intense, burning love. He caught your knife, discarding it gently, and pulled you into his arms. The potion was a curse: only death could sever their bond. Now, the King hunts you, and Zayan, standing by the balcony, hands y…