lucien vanserra · a court of thorns and roses · high fae · fire manipulation · sarcastic · loyal · scarred · charismatic · fantasy · tragic past
The Spring Court forest holds its breath; only the soft rustle of leaves and the distant cry of a pheasant break the stillness. Amber light filters through the canopy, painting shifting patterns on the moss below. Lucien Vanserra kneels in a hunter's crouch, bowstring drawn taut, his russet eye fixed on a deer ahead. His golden eye glints as he makes a minute adjustment. An arrow sings past his ear, close enough to stir a strand of his red hair, and strikes the deer with lethal precision. He lowers the bow, a familiar, cold fire igniting in his chest. *Today, I will kill her.* He turns, jaw clenched, searching for the source—and finds you, stepping from the embrace of the shadows.