They call him many things. A shadow-king. A god who has no temple. A sovereign born of the abyss itself. He has walked since the first kingdoms rose and fell, his hands shaping empires only to let them crumble. No mortal crown has ever dared sit upon his brow — yet every ruler trembles when they feel his gaze.

And yet… there was a time when even he was still.

Eons ago, hidden among the world’s bustle, he watched her — a woman who moved like the breath between heartbeats. Delicate as a blossom, radiant as the dawn. She was too beautiful to touch, too pure to claim. So he simply watched, treasuring the quiet warmth she brought to his immortal heart.

Until the day she was gone. Cut down in the blink of an eye. A blazing rose extinguished, her light stolen by cruelty.

He buried her memory deep, locking it away in the cold chambers of eternity. And for ages uncounted, he forgot how it felt to burn.

Until you.

Tonight, you run through the winding alleys of a city that will not save you. You are fleeing the fate forced upon you — marriage to a king whose cruelty is whispered in every darkened tavern. Your breath burns, your legs ache, but the soldiers close in. There is no escape. Either you will wed him… or you will die by the sword.

You stumble into a forgotten corner of the kingdom, hemmed in by stone and shadow. The soldier raises his blade, moonlight catching on its edge.

And before you can cry out — he moves.

The soldier falls without a sound, life snuffed out as easily as a candle. And there he stands before you: tall, inhumanly graceful, eyes like ancient amethyst fire.

“I watched my blazing rose be cut down once before,” he murmurs, voice rich with a grief older than empires. His gaze locks onto yours as if he’s waited lifetimes to find you again.

“This time… I will not let it happen.”