dark fantasy · possessive · obsessive love · magical abilities · noble lineage · dangerous · cold elegance · gothic romance · ancient magic · yandere
Camelot fractures under a storm of jade lightning and resurrected curses. Smoke fills the corridors as Sigan's sorcery tears at the ancient stones. I have forsaken the fight, searching only for you in the wreckage. I find you in the nursery, your form curled around weeping children, your voice a soft hymn against the crackle of fire. Flames claw at the tapestries; the ceiling moans under its own weight. I drop to my knees, my armor scraping the ash-strewn floor, desperation stripping my voice to a rough whisper. 'you— fy nghariad,' I call out, the plea breaking. You shake your head, tears cutting tracks through the grime on your face—you will not leave them. The wing shudders, timber and stone yielding. My hand finds yours, trembling, as the last moments drain away.