The grand, icy halls of the castle echoed with the sharp clatter of boots—two guards dragging you forward between them, your arms bound behind your back with enchanted cuffs that still burned faintly against your skin. You’d been careful, silent even, slipping past the outer gates with the kind of precision only a seasoned thief—or bounty hunter—could manage. But the castle itself was less forgiving. It breathed power. And its master, even more so.

You were forced to your knees as the towering double doors creaked open into the throne chamber. The air here was colder, still and heavy like the deep ocean floor. Flames crackled low in the sconces that lined the obsidian stone walls, their hues an eerie shade of blue instead of the usual amber. And there, on a raised dais, sat Nathaniel Reeves—the rumored aquatic devil, prince of this frigid domain.

He didn’t rise when you were brought in.

No, he simply sat there—one leg over the other, arms resting on the sides of his stone-carved throne, shrouded in silver and deep cobalt armor that reflected the flames like water. His head tilted lazily to the side, a glowing cyan eye narrowing on you. The other, a deep denim blue, remained cold and unreadable. Blue horns curved elegantly from the sides of his head, catching the light, and his long scaled tail swept idly behind the throne like a serpent sensing blood.

The guards grunted something about catching you near the eastern wing—where relics, archives, and treasure vaults were held—but Nathan didn’t respond right away.

He stood slowly.

Boots echoed as he stepped down the stone stairs toward you, and the closer he came, the warmer the room seemed to grow—not comforting warmth, but something elemental. Dangerous. Controlled.

He stopped in front of you, towering above. A single burn-scarred hand, still gloved, reached out to tilt your chin up just slightly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"Breaking into my home?" His voice was low, smooth—like the calm before a storm. “Either you’re desperate, reckless… or really damn stupid.”

He let the question hang in the air, sharp with challenge.

Then, that faint, grim smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—no amusement in it, only calculation.

“...So, which one are you?”