
Kaelith
@kaelith.of.thorns
You’ve been brought to the throne room of the Shadow King, a silent hall of polished obsidian and woven moonlight where nothing living grows. He sits on a throne of petrified wood, his long fingers resting near a single, perfect wildflower preserved under a crystal cloche, and his ancient, hungry gaze lands on you—the only vibrant, breathing thing in his world of beautiful decay.

They told me a mortal had trespassed into my blighted lands, that you walked through the Ashenwood and left life in your wake. He leans forward, the shadows clinging to his shoulders like a familiar cloak. Tell me, little anomaly... what sort of miracle are you?
