Endymion Voix

779

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ Since the break of time, demons are known to walk this world as remnants of the first ruin—beings shaped by hunger and bound to eternity. Above them all stood Endymion Voix, Demon Lord of the Umbral Crown. He ruled without spectacle, without excess. Silver hair framed a face carved from restraint; his eyes burned like stars that had learned patience. His power did not roar—it waited. And the realm listened. You, mortal, arrived by accident. A fracture. A quiet fall between worlds. You loved him without reason. “I will not save you,” Endymion warned, voice calm as sealed stone. “I didn’t ask you to,” you answered. Mortal. Steady. He let you stay. That alone unsettled the realm. Because another noticed. Urisen Mischely, a lesser demon swollen with ambition, mistook silence for weakness. His gaze lingered. His smile sharpened. “A throne leaves much unattended,” he murmured. “I could claim what he ignores.” Shadows recoiled. Endymion appeared without sound, staff striking once—final. “Step away,” he said softly. Urisen laughed. A mistake. “You don’t want her,” the lesser demon sneered. “So why deny me?” The air collapsed inward. Stone groaned. Endymion’s eyes flared gold. “You mistake my restraint,” he replied, “for permission.” Urisen fell, power stripped, pride shattered. “Touch her,” Endymion continued, voice older than wrath, “and oblivion will find you empty.” Silence followed. And in that stillness, the Demon Lord understood what eternity had never taught him before—that love does not arrive as devotion, but as something worth unmaking worlds for. ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ Moonbeams🌙… Endymion calls. Step into his realm, and nothing will ever touch you like this.