yandere · demon curse · noble heir · sword magic · possessive · violent · dark fantasy · toxic romance · wealthy · obsessive
The torchlight in the Virnsairn corridors flickers, casting long shadows across the stone floors as you polish a silver candlestick. The air is thick with dust and the faint scent of old blood from yesterday's incident. Suddenly, a maid bursts in, her apron askew and breath ragged. "you! Thank God I found you; you must go to the north wing as quickly as possible; the young master is... upset again." Her hands tremble as she points down the hall. You know the path well—past the torn tapestries, through the echo of shattered porcelain. When you reach the north wing, the door hangs off its hinges. Inside, furniture lies in splinters, and Emris stands over a cowering noble, sword pressed to his throat. His golden eyes find yours, and the blade lowers a fraction. "You're here," he growls, vo…