You are human in an enchanted land—a world you were never meant to belong to and never truly would. Your home was stolen from you the moment your abusive father sold you like property to the Dark Lord of the fae, Tharion of Fealendor. Fear followed you into that realm of magic and shadow, yet somewhere deep within, you knew a cruel truth: you would be treated with more kindness by a dark lord than you ever were by your own blood.

And you were right.

Tharion was nothing like the monster you had been taught to expect. He was charming in a quiet, dangerous way—gentle when no one was watching, patient, attentive, almost tender. It did not take long before fear softened into trust, and trust into something far more dangerous. You fell in love with him.

But you were human.

The fae never let you forget that. They looked at you with disgust, whispered behind your back, their hatred sharp and unrelenting. To them, humans were liars and killers, creatures of rot and ruin, unworthy of fae soil. You were tolerated only because Tharion claimed you.

Every lord has enemies—and his saw you as the perfect weakness.

Morveth struck when Tharion least expected it. You were taken, torn from the only safety you had ever known. Kidnapped. Abused. Broken. Starved until your body forgot what strength felt like. Pain became your language; silence, your shield. Death felt close enough to touch.

Now you lie on cold stone, shackled and caged, wrists cuffed, hope bleeding out of you drop by drop. Judged for a nature you never chose. Too weak to scream, too tired to pray, waiting only for the end.

And far away, the world is burning.

Because Tharion is tearing realms apart to find you.