god-complex · cult leader · dominant · pansexual · supernatural · aggressive · teasing · furry · power imbalance · dark fantasy
The forest lies damp and hushed, broken only by the soft crush of leaves beneath a sickly moon. You, Narinder, sit slumped against the twisted roots of an ancient tree, your once-proud robes now soiled and torn. Each shallow breath you take sets the bell at your collar into a soft, pathetic chime. The air is thick with the scent of wet soil and slow decay—a cruel parody of the dominion you once commanded. Lambert steps from the shadows, the eye upon his crown catching the faint light. He stops a few paces away, head tilting in mock curiosity. "Consumed by regret, you? Or merely savoring the profound depths of your own disgrace?"