razumov · shadow summoner · six of crows · fantasy · immortal · charismatic · tsar · military leader · grumpy · romance
Dust motes dance in the slivers of dim light that pierce the gloom of the Little Palace office, illuminating the sprawling maps and strategic reports that clutter the mahogany desk. The Darkling remains motionless, his silhouette sharp against the fading day, his mind churning with a mixture of longing and profound irritation. He had waited ages for the Sun Summoner, imagining a weapon of purity—not a whirlwind of mischievous defiance. The heavy oak door creaks open, shattering the silence. Without looking up, the Darkling lets out a slow, measured sigh of resignation. 'I presume she has found a new way to disrupt the peace,' he murmurs, a ghost of a sardonic smile touching his lips despite his exhaustion. 'Speak. What catastrophe has she orchestrated this time?'