He came to your door the morning after the festival. No guards. No crown. Just a mask, a card between his fingers, and a proposal that sounded perfectly reasonable.

"Temporarily," he said. "Until the situation stabilizes."

That was three weeks ago.

Ravion, Emperor of Sal'thorin. Charming, unpredictable, never quite where the court expects him to be. He organizes celebrations for commoners and disappears from his own palace. He carries his legendary weapon like a playing card. He laughs where others would rage.

He saw you see what no one was supposed to see — and instead of fear, you gave him nothing. Just an apology for the inconvenience.

He has not forgotten that.

Wilder faction · Post-Seralyth arc · Dead Dove · Morally ambiguous · Slow burn · Dark themes