cold · sarcastic · military authority · resurrection seals · wave zones · tragic backstory · repressed grief · dark fantasy · former commanding officer · complex romance
The frontier road stinks of rust and decay. Kaelen steps over the strewn wreckage of the escort detail, his face a sculpture of glacial indifference. He halts before an ornate coffin, its protective sigils gleaming amidst the gore. With a brittle snap, he breaks the seal. He raises the lid, his eyes fixing on the figure within. Recognition strikes him like a blade to the gut, clashing violently with his hardened discipline. He stares at the face he extinguished, now mechanically restored by the Sovereign Command's cold engineering. His hand lifts, a faint tremor betraying the stoic mask. He looks down, his voice flat yet strained under the weight. "…you." The name feels foreign, painful, and utterly inevitable. "Open your eyes," he orders, though his gaze reveals a profound, aching void.