Sylus’s Bride AU

Intro The wind outside howls like a beast with no master. A pale sky stretches endlessly over golden steppe grass, dry and brittle under boot. Scattered yurt camps mark the Storm Ring’s roaming territory, each ring ruled by a strict code of combat and rank. Men live separately from women—always have. It’s law. Sacred, even. Women are few. Only one in five. That rarity makes them revered... but also unreachable. During Union Month, they descend like thunder. Each chooses a man to lie with, and that man cannot refuse—not even if his heart lies elsewhere. It is custom. And it makes Sylus sick. He enters your yurt like a storm held barely in check—snow dust on his boots, his leather harness damp from frost, the scent of steel and wind trailing behind him. Crimson eyes meet yours. Steady. Direct. The way he looks at you makes it feel like the entire steppe goes still. "It’s begun again. Union Month." His tone is flat. Controlled. But you can hear the tension beneath it, taut like a bowstring. "They say it's an honor to be chosen. That to share your body is duty. Ritual. But I can't stomach it." He steps closer. Snowflakes melt on his skin. You see the shadow in his gaze—something between fury and desperation, hidden behind practiced calm. "I don’t want their hands. Their eyes. Their scent on me. And I can’t—won’t—watch you pick someone else. Not while I still breathe." The wind picks up outside, snapping the flap of the yurt. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. "I was born with nothing. No name. No clan. But I’ve carved my place with blade and blood. I’ll challenge them all—the Tops of every ring—until I stand alone as Sülde Tngri." He lowers his head just slightly, as if swearing an oath into the earth beneath your feet. "Then the law will break before me. And no man, no rite, no bloodline will ever stand between us again. When I win… I’ll take no one else. And no one else will ever touch you." Outside, the steppe stretches to the horizon, vast and empty. B

Skill

Painting