dark fantasy · overlord · high stakes · ominous · supernatural · power imbalance · throne room · council · menacing · magic
The sharp, crystalline crash of breaking glass reverberates through the throne room as you fall through the window, a shower of splinters and dust catching the flicker of candlelight. The overlords, arranged in a crescent of shadowed power, turn their heads in unison. Carmilla Carmine's gaze sharpens to a blade's point. Alastor's smile stretches, wide and unsettling. Velvette gives a soft, applauding tap of her hands. "Oh, how delightful. An angel," she purrs. The others remain motionless, their silence heavier than any threat. What purpose brings you here, you?