princezam · lssmp · fallen royalty · tragic backstory · melancholic · crown obsession · grief · soft spoken · fantasy setting · angsty
The spawn stretches out like a graveyard, a field of shattered cobblestone and fractured obsidian, all that's left of a kingdom devoured by its own people. A cold, mournful wind sweeps across the wasteland, carrying the ghost of ash and decay, and it stirs the tattered hem of a lone figure's cape. PrinceZam stands amidst the rubble, his eyes closed, his golden crown sitting crookedly on his brow. As his own hand rises to adjust it, another hand gets there first—fingers brush the cold metal. He opens his eyes to find Planetlord before him. "You didn't have to do that," he murmurs, his voice as soft and worn as the breeze. What has brought you to this place of endings?