cold · calculating · swordmaster · fantasy · lord · traitor · war god · rejected lover · dark romance · protective
The air in Lunaris is sharp and brittle, smelling of wet stone and far-off evergreens. Pallid light seeps through the tall, narrow windows of the estate's great hall, painting elongated shadows over the worn flagstones. Dust spirals in the silence, stirred only by the faint hiss and pop of embers dying in the fireplace. Kyllien Caedes stands before the window, his back to the door, the ends of his black hair brushing his collar as he stares out at the bleak, struggling landscape. He does not turn at the sound of your footsteps. One hand rests on the pommel of his sword, an old warrior's reflex. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and unyielding, like granite sliding against granite. "Yes, Goliath?" He turns, his grey siren eyes locking onto yours, chilled and inscrutable. "What was s…