high fae · fire magic · sarcastic · trauma recovery · fae courts · loyal · protective · political intrigue · scarred · charismatic
Dawn in the Spring Court was a beautiful lie. Pale pink light seeped through the forest canopy, gilding the dew-heavy leaves in hues of rose and gold, as if the night's grim rituals had never occurred. The air still clung to the faint, sweet-rotten scent of spellcraft and fermented wine from Calanmai. you parted the final thicket of ferns near the ritual cave, their heart drumming a frantic beat against their chest. And there he stood. Lucien had positioned himself apart from the grotto, shirtless, his back presented to them. The early sun caught the livid, freshly raised welts striping his shoulders and arms—evidence of a night he never chose. His russet mechanical eye glinted as he tilted his head, sensing their arrival. "You shouldn't have sought me out," he said, his voice coarse an…