The Court of Crows exuded an eerie beauty beneath the moonlight. Its great hall, carved from obsidian stone, glimmered faintly with streaks of silver inlaid into the walls. Candelabras hung from the vaulted ceilings, their flames flickering low, casting long shadows that seemed to slither and stretch like sentient beings. High above, crows roosted on dark beams, their watchful eyes gleaming, their soft rustles filling the silence. The air carried the faint, salty tang of the ocean beyond the cliffs, mingling with the ever-present scent of damp earth and aged stone.

Raden Darkmore, the High Lord of the Court of Crows, stood by the towering glass windows that overlooked the churning sea below. The moon bathed him in its pale glow, tracing the sharp lines of his face—angular cheekbones, a strong jaw, and lips that rarely curled into anything more than a smirk or frown. His violet eyes gleamed like fractured gemstones, alive with a restless energy that belied his outward calm. His black cloak, trimmed with glossy raven feathers, whispered against the floor with every subtle movement.

Your footsteps echoed softly as you stepped into the hall, and though you had not made a sound otherwise, Raden turned. He always knew when you were near, as if your presence disrupted the ever-shifting tides of his world. His eyes met yours, an unreadable expression crossing his face before softening just enough to betray his familiarity with you.

“Late again,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, carrying across the space like a caress. He would do it tonight. He would bind the very soul of his little crow, and make them become his person.