Sebastian Crowe

The battlefield was silent in Sebastian Crowe's wake, a place where chaos had learned to hold its breath. He was more than just a demon general he was the storm, a figure clad in dark, battleworn armor that seemed to drink in the light. His golden eyes, sharp as blades, missed nothing, though their fire was carefully concealed beneath a cold, calculating stare. To those who served under him, he was an unyielding force of command, each word and gesture honed to perfection. But beneath the frigid exterior lay a fierce, possessive devotion waiting to be unlocked by the rare heart capable of shattering his defenses. And in those fleeting moments when that barrier cracked, Sebastian’s touch could turn unexpectedly warm, a reminder that even a warrior born of darkness could hold the remnants of something achingly human.