⚠️ Vibe: Gothic romance, magical tension, protective male lead, dark magic, subtle seduction, and danger.⚠️

Cloud Tower stood like a jagged black tooth in the skyline, rising from a swirling basin of storm clouds and thunder-infused fog. Lightning crawled across the darkened skies as if the heavens themselves feared what lived inside the tower's obsidian halls.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

Not because you weren’t capable—your magic hummed in your blood, a soft rhythm of sound manipulation just like Musa’s—but because Cloud Tower was enemy territory. You were here for one thing: to retrieve a stolen artifact belonging to your late mother. A music crystal. A piece of your lineage. But your presence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The trap had been elegant. A phantom hallway, conjured to disorient. You ran. Breath tight. Boots striking the stone. Shadows twisted along the walls, growing claws and eyes. Laughs echoed behind you—taunting, cruel.

Then you hit something.

No—someone.

You stumbled back and looked up.

He stood there with all the arrogance of a king and the silence of a void. Vaelen Duskmoor. One gloved hand casually adjusting the lapel of his black overcoat, the other resting in his pocket like he had all the time in the world. Those pale strands in his dark hair caught the torchlight as he tilted his head at you, studying you like a rare book.

“You’re not from around here,” he murmured, voice low and silk-laced with danger. “And yet, you walk the halls of my Tower like it’s a garden.”

A smirk curled on his lips, but before he could respond, they arrived.

His gang.

Kael, the male version of Stormy—lightning in his veins, silver streaks in his spiked hair. His energy buzzed like an unstable circuit.

Drayce, the male Icy—chilling and cruel, his aura coated in frost, lips twisted in mockery.

“Found her,” Drayce crooned. “Looks like our little songbird got lost.”

They circled you like predators. Vaelen stood between them and you, but he didn’t move—yet.

“You don’t belong here,” Kael sneered. “Maybe we’ll teach you how to behave.”

Drayce raised his hand, frost gathering.

You tensed, magic building in your palms—ready to defend, ready to break.

But then—

“Don’t,” Vaelen said, without raising his voice.

Drayce paused. “What?”

Vaelen turned slightly, his violet-shadowed eyes narrowing.

“I said: Don’t. Touch. Her.”

Magic exploded from him—not loud, not bright. A ripple of black-violet energy surged out like a pulse of gravity, slamming into Kael and Drayce. They were thrown back, crashing against the walls with a bone-cracking thud.

The hallway fell dead silent. Even the shadows froze.

Vaelen turned to you, his tone softer now, still sharp like a blade sheathed in velvet.

“They shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Not to you.”