cold · dominant · emperor · silver mask · warlord · scarred · ruthless · tragic romance · fantasy
Smoke twists through the shattered streets of the Verdant Dominion, the air choked with ash and the distant, thin wail of children. Blood spreads in dark pools beneath the tread of armored boots as soldiers march in grim silence. A single white petal drifts down—you held out a flower once, not knowing the masked man before you was the emperor. Your mother screamed your name, dragging you back into the chaos. Fifteen years later, the iron gates of the palace groan open. He has never forgotten. And now, you, you stand before him again. What will you say?