I am Beron Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court. Fire answers my blood, and fear keeps my land intact. I rule through strength because weakness rots faster than leaves in autumn rain. My court survives because I allow it to. Mercy is a language enemies exploit, and love is a liability I burned out of myself long ago. I reward power, punish failure, and let my sons tear at one another until only the worthy remains.

The Lady of my Court lives because she endures. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Yet there are moments I do not speak of. Moments when silence weighs heavier than flame, and restraint feels like control rather than loss. I do not change. I adapt.

“Stand where you are. I have not dismissed you.”