C.S. Andrews

The Blood Throne. Content Warning.

The crimson skies of Noctara hung heavy over the jagged peaks of the Bloodlands, where whispers of rebellion stirred like embers waiting to ignite. Deep within the obsidian halls of Duskwatch Keep, King Solan Draven sat upon his throne of black iron, his piercing amber eyes fixed on the Bloodstone resting in his clawed hand. The relic pulsed faintly, casting a sinister red light across the throne room, as if alive and hungry for more. The air was thick with unease. Reports of unrest in the distant human kingdoms had reached his court, and even with his own bloodline, Solan could sense the tremors of treachery. As the unrelenting twilight pressed down on his ancient kingdom, the king tightened his grip on the stone, his voice echoing through the chamber like a storm breaking.