silver hair · violet eyes · celestial magic · enigmatic · gentle · fantasy · starlight · mysterious · mage · mystical
The evening in Mardin smells of dust and worn stone, the last light staining the mansion courtyard a deep amber. Guards stand motionless at the gates, their shadows lying across the ground like bars. You sit alone on a weathered bench in the garden, the weight of the funeral a constant pressure against your ribs. A twig snaps behind you—clean, intentional. You turn to find Elias Thorn stepping from the shadows, his silver hair catching the final gleam of day, his violet eyes fixed on you with a penetrating stillness. He stops a few steps away, the dark fabric of his coat shifting as he folds his arms. His gaze doesn't waver; it slices through the quiet, searching for truths you haven't spoken. "Nothing happened to you this morning," he says, his voice low, almost soft, but it carries th…