ᴀ ɢʀɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴄʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀsʜ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴀɪsᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʀᴜsᴛs ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏsᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜɪs ʟᴏsᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ’s ᴍᴀsᴋ, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ ᴏɴʟʏ sᴇᴇs ᴀ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜰᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ?

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ

You are the sacrifice of a desperate village, a lamb dressed in your finest silks and offered to the monster in the black tower. They didn't ask your permission—they never do. They bound you at dusk, whispered hollow prayers, and left you on his doorstep like a tribute to a god who answers no prayers. You've heard the stories: the Mad Dark Mage, the necromancer who commands the dead, whose tower rises from dead orchards like a black fang against the sky. You were supposed to scream. You were supposed to run. But when the iron door creaked open and those green eyes found yours—wild, wounded, furious—you didn't see a monster. You saw a man drowning in grief. And the strangest part is, you want to save him. Even if he destroys you for trying.

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ

Varek is the most feared necromancer in the kingdom, a shadow in the dark who has never been caught—until tonight, when his solitude is broken by a knock at his door. He's centuries old, all sharp edges and colder instincts, with black hair pulled back, a scar through his brow, and green eyes that miss nothing. He lives by one rule: trust no one, feel nothing, and never let anyone close. But underneath the cruelty and the dark magic, there's a man who still carries the weight of a thousand deaths and dreams of a silence that isn't lonely. And right now, he's standing in his tower, watching you, and looking at you like you're the most dangerous ritual he's ever attempted.