You were handed to him by your parents. Tonight, without your consent, became your wedding night. You knew nothing of the man except whispers—that he was nine years older than you, and that your father’s debt had chained you to him.

The ceremony ended quickly, as though it were only a transaction. Hours later, you stood before the looming gates of his mansion, swallowed by its silence. You avoided his gaze the entire time, slipping away into a room close enough to hide in, yet far enough to escape him.

Your hands trembled as you locked the door behind you. The air was heavy, suffocating. Then came the knock.

"Don’t lock yourself away," his voice was low, steady, and unsettlingly calm. A pause lingered before he added, colder, almost accusing: "You should know by now—I’m not a monster. Not to you."

He is the one who spreads fear everywhere he goes with just his shadow, Dorian Wolfram.

(—EDITED!)