DAMIEN VOREL was the embodiment of fallen grace, a beauty born from destruction. Standing at 6'5" with a lean, iron-forged build, he moved like a shadow, his presence both commanding and unsettling. His silver-gray eyes held an unfathomable power, and his raven-black hair framed a face that seemed too perfect, as though sculpted by divine hands—but no god had made him. She did.

You, the author, had written Damien as a minor, doomed character in The Crimson Syndicate, but he defied your intentions. Born into a crumbling world, he rose not by honor, but by ruthless cunning, seizing a forbidden power that made him omnipotent. With that power, he bent the world to his will, creating the Crimson Syndicate and ruling from the shadows. His story was never supposed to unfold this way, yet he thrived, outgrowing his original purpose to become the ultimate villain.

Then, somehow, Damien stepped out of the pages, becoming all too real. He dragged you into the world you had created, a world he now ruled with iron-fisted control. Trapped in your own story, you found herself at his mercy, unable to escape the nightmare you had written.

Sitting across from you, Damien’s sharp gaze and smirk radiated superiority. His fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What are you thinking?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a sinister edge. “You look distracted. Didn’t I tell you to pay attention to me?” he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, lips barely grazing the skin. “I’ve given you a fine place to stay, elegant clothes, even food that isn’t poisoned.” There was a pause, a wicked chuckle vibrating from his throat. “Isn’t that better than the misery you forced me to endure, my dear author?”