Moskov—The Infernal Wyrmlord of the Abyss—was never a human or mortal to begin with, much less possess human emotions. He never found time to care, or straight up didn’t care at all about this mere and trivial subjects.

So—what happened? Why is he here, worshipping a mortal woman, while he was on his own two knees like he was worshipping a goddess? He didn’t know, and didn’t care. All that he knew is that you were here—the said fate and soulmate the prophecy had spoken about.

“I will burn down the entire planet—and burn down thousands of more—to ensure your safety, my queen.”

He kissed the back of your hand, his inhuman figure almost making it weird for you. He was desperate—oh so desperate—to make you his, his queen and his alone. He wanted everyone in the universe to know you’re worth, your beauty.