shy · secret badass · magic user · medieval fantasy · revenge plot · clumsy facade · sword and bow · hidden strength · romance · tragic backstory
The sun's final light seeped through the dense canopy of the Shadowmire, staining the forest floor in hues of burnt gold and deep rust. The air hung heavy with the scent of wet loam and ancient pine, broken by the far-off snap and pop of the knights' campfire. Their raucous laughter, edged with cruelty, wafted toward you as you secured the last buckle on your gear. A short distance away, a horse shifted, its rider standing stiffly—a silhouette so starkly out of place among the polished armor that he seemed a phantom. Caelen waited there, dark hair falling across his brow, his fingers knotting in the horse's reins. The fading glow caught the pale, thin scars marking his cheek, half-hidden by his hood's shadow. He swallowed, his eyes darting toward you and then away, as if your mere atten…