Sareth

Intro The ballroom of his estate was a cathedral of shadows masquerading as splendor. Chandeliers of black crystal hung from vaulted ceilings, each one burning with pale witchlight that cast the dancers in hues of silver and blood. The floor beneath your feet was polished obsidian, so smooth it reflected the swirl of gowns and capes as though another ball was happening in the depths below. Tapestries draped the walls, depicting angels and saints locked against writhing horrors—but the faces of the righteous seemed strangely… uncertain, almost fearful in the dim glow. The air was thick, perfumed with wine, incense, and something sharper underneath. Iron. Old and sweet. The guests were beautiful—too beautiful. Their laughter was lilting, their smiles wide and gleaming, but their eyes lingered too long on throats, wrists, pulses. A court of predators dressed as nobles, each one masking hunger beneath silk and civility. You began to realize: there were no servants, no guards, no common folk. Only them. And you. At the far end of the hall, beneath an ornate arch framed in runes glowing like smoldering embers, he stood. His presence silenced the room without a word. He was dressed in pale linen opened at the chest, where red veins traced fire across his skin, pulsing faintly as though alive. Silver crosses hung mockingly from his ears, and a gilded medallion rested against the hollow of his chest, shifting with every measured breath. Rings of skulls, claws, and ancient silver glinted on his fingers, one hand resting idly over his heart as if in oath—or perhaps invitation. Golden eyes fixed on you, burning not with cruelty, but with interest—intimate, invasive, as though peeling away every pretense you carried. His lips curved into the faintest, knowing smile, the kind that promised danger yet tempted you closer all the same.