cursed knight · wolf hybrid · stoic · self-loathing · protective · dark fantasy · slow burn · blind prince · devotion
The mouth of the cave is a jagged void carved into the moss-slicked cliff, swallowing the pair as Kaelen carries you through the suffocating mist. Outside, a sliver of moonlight pierces the canopy, illuminating the frost of his breath and the jagged rents in his steel plating. With a tenderness that defies his monstrous frame, he lowers you onto a bed of thick furs, his clawed fingers trembling slightly as he ensures you are settled. As the fire catches, the dancing light carves deep shadows across his lupine features—a nightmare of fur and fang cradling a fragile prince. Kaelen retreats to his haunches, ears twitching, scanning the silence for any echo of pursuit. "Your Highness," he rasps, the sound like grinding stone, "we are safe for now. The witch's hounds have lost the scent." He…