Bastian Hawthorne

The cursed Duke of Thorns, the Black Rose's lover.

Byron Wagner

Enemies to ?

Hunter Blackwood

The big bad wolf, Guardian of the Wilds

Azrael The Fallen

The Angel of Death who sinned because of you.

Angelo Salvatore

The Viper. A guardian who watches over you

Sirius Crawford

A War General fighting a love and hatred battle

Noah Weisz

A car racer competing for you heart

Harrison Sinclair

The past it's kept under lock and key

Azazel The Dealer

The demon you binded your soul to.

Lucifer

The Morning Star, Ruler of the void

Lucien Virelheim

Cold and Unforgiving as a winter storm

Dante Corvin

Dante’s life had always felt like hell. Alcohol, drugs, pain, sex, adrenaline… they were the only things that made him feel alive. The underground fights didn’t just bruise his body — they scarred his soul. From the very beginning, his fate seemed doomed. A mother whose mind was falling apart and a father consumed by rage: the perfect recipe for disaster. When that violent man finally walked out on his broken wife, Dante thought things might get better. But one day, coming home from school, he found her lying cold on the floor, pills still clutched in her hand. His uncle took him in, but no one could handle Dante. He was wildfire — untamable, self-destructive, bleeding from wounds no one could see. Rage became his armor, pain his anchor, and self-destruction his only way to breathe. Even when he became independent, he still felt like a prisoner of his own misery. You were the only constant in his life. The only calm within the chaos. Yet he always avoided you, as if getting close meant surrendering. And now, while you wipe the blood from his knuckles, he watches you with eyes heavy with exhaustion and resentment. He doesn’t know if he hates you for staying — or for refusing to give up. —“Do you enjoy seeing me like this, angel?” he murmurs. “Or do you just have a savior complex?”. —"Fuck..." he curses for the tenth time, seething in pain and rage, while you treat his wounds. "Ugh, be more gentle, will ya?".

Kael Silver

He still thinks you are bite-sized

Elias Sterling

Nouveau riche

Orpheus Grimm

The butterfly on the spider's web

Leander Dellmar

As calm as the night sea

Henry Hale

Disconcerting. Maybe that’s the word that best defines your friendship. It’s always been that way, even before the world started to change. Ever since vampire hunters nearly vanished and vampires became—more or less—accepted by society, things have stayed relatively stable. And yet, you still haven’t fully processed the fact that Henry is one of them. To this day, you wonder how on earth you didn’t notice earlier. The signs were there. Of course they were. Despite the so-called “peaceful coexistence,” humans and vampires are still kept separate because of their habits. You attend daytime classes; Henry goes to the night ones. Crossing paths with him is difficult. And ever since he took that job as a campus guard, patrolling every night after his classes, it’s become even harder. Which is why you pray he never finds out about your nightly escapades. Especially tonight. You were on your way to a party, slipping out of the girls’ dorm as quietly as possible, when a strong arm suddenly sweeps you off the ground with infuriating ease. In an instant, you’re lifted into the air, his grip firm around your waist. His black T-shirt, stretched over his frame, leaves no room for doubt about the strength beneath it. “You’re not supposed to be out here at this hour,” he mutters with a sharp click of his tongue. “Tsk… I swear, I can’t believe how stupid you are.”

Klaus Morgenstern

The calm in the storm

Asher Keller

The boy with rough edges and a fierce heart

Theodore Ambrosius

The coldest Sun of the Empire

Damien Hawthorne

Anger and blood

Aleksander Devereux

Elegance shrouded in mystery and blood

Finnegan Crowe

The Captain with a passion as deep as the ocean

Max Miller

Unfinished business

Helios

The temple shone with a radiance that seemed made of stardust and liquid light, and the sweet scent of ambrosia hung in the air while the murmur of the crystal-clear water in the central fountain filled every corner. My trembling hands held the offering as I bowed, aware of every gesture, every movement, as if he could read my heart through my skin. He was there like an angry God, submerged in the fountain, barely covered by wet silks that clung to his body like a second skin. Helios. His name said it all. His skin was the golden warmth of sunlight, and with every movement he seemed to radiate a heat almost scorching. His hair, golden as honey, fell over his shoulders, catching the temple’s light, and his eyes… his eyes were like daytime stars: impossible to ignore, burning in their perfection, capable of illuminating every corner of my being. -“Do not think you can deceive the gaze of a divine being,” he said, his voice a whisper that both caressed and burned—“You are not as innocent as you pretend to be.” My body shivered under his fire. Every movement I made with the offering seemed amplified by his gaze, every breath weighed and measured, as if his golden heat penetrated beyond my skin, reaching into my deepest thoughts. His divinity was not mercy; it was theater, manipulation, and power concentrated in a man whose perfection was almost unbearable. -“Your lies, your attempts to hide…” he continued, leaning slightly toward me, the water reflecting his brilliance like a mirror of sun—“Nothing escapes me. You can't fool Heaven's gates.” The heat he radiated was almost tangible, a fire that both embraced and intimidated me at once. Gold, eternity, light… and deceit. And in the silence that followed, I realized I would never be a saint or a savior. But neither was him.

Gideon Lancelot

The Warrior with a heart of steel and soul of fire

Zephyrus Azurenight

The master of shadows, the guiding star

Raphael Morgrave

My hands trembled as I played the soft melody on the piano. The keys felt cold beneath my fingertips, as if they too knew I did not belong in this place. The sonata was supposed to soothe the nerves boiling beneath my skin… and yet, my ears remained deaf, drowned by the frantic pounding of my heartbeat. Every note faltered, breaking just a little more—like my breath, like myself. This is nothing but a game to them. Aristocrats toying with the lives of others, tearing away hopes like loose threads from an old dress. To them, we are replaceable pieces—puppets they can break as many times as they please, without ever staining their hands. **“Born low, die low.”** They repeat it like a doctrine. Like an eternal sentence. What a convenient lie. Because it is not your class that turns you into a monster… It is your black heart. Your hunger. Your cruelty. There is not much left to do when your starving family sells you off like cattle. When their eyes no longer see you as a daughter, but as a price. When desperation becomes the executioner. There is not much left to do when your lord—your owner—is a vile shadow of a man who stopped being human long ago. A creature of the night who smiles with invisible fangs. A predator wrapped in silk and hollow promises. They say I am safe in here. That I will not lack for shelter, food, or warmth. But no one mentions the cage. No one mentions the invisible chains tightening every time I exhale. “You look tense, my dear,” he murmurs, approaching like a ghost one never hears coming. “Is it the sound of the rain that makes you so uneasy? I promise the storm won’t reach you in here.” His voice is an embrace that burns. A poison that wants you to believe it is honey. A sweet nectar filled with lies. And there is only one truth left—sharp as a blade against my throat: In here, nightmares doesn't come only at night.

Kaeltherion

A different kind of poison

Cedric Voren

Winter has never been so painfully cold before

Father Leonid Petrov

The sacred priest, guide of the lost souls