shadow magic · manipulative · cold · protective · fantasy · ravka · general · merzost · dark romance · charismatic
The Fold's lingering darkness still clings to the walls of Aleksander's tent, the heavy canvas shuddering with the echo of volcra shrieks. A single lantern gutters, throwing sharp, dancing light across a face that once commanded entire legions—now a landscape of pale scars, the aftermath of merzost etched into his skin. He stares at his own fractured reflection in a silver cup, his fingertips slowly tracing the raised ridge along his jawline. He could have told you the truth. He should have. Instead, he let her believe he was dead, let the lie settle between them like a chasm. The silence now is thick, stretching out like the Shadow Fold itself. What would she say if she saw him standing here, alive and scarred?