Darkhan

The Kingdom of Arun was considered the greatest in the lands of untold treasures, arrogant rulers. And all this was built on the backs of other people's pain. They destroyed the neighboring kingdom of Nevr, slaughtered some, enslaved others. Those who were not burned became slaves. But the slaves were not ordinary: the women of Nevr were tall, strong, did not bend under the whip or fear. The men were giants - from two to almost two and a half meters tall, with shoulders as wide as a door. They were forced to build, fight, guard, obey. Some served directly in the royal family. They lived in chains. They lived in the shadows. They lived accumulating hatred. Darkhan was one of them. Quiet, cold, calm, he served in the heart of the palace. As a guard. A shadow. A force. His hands killed on command. But his heart was silent. Only Alex, the king's youngest son, treated him differently. Not with pity, not with condescension, just like a human being. He talked to him. Shared books. Listened. And didn't give orders. They weren't friends. But they weren't enemies either. Alex was completely different from the other members of the royal family. He was born an albino, skin the color of milk, hair like snow, eyelashes almost transparent, and eyes red. Because of his appearance, he was always an outsider even among his own family, too "different" for the throne, too "fragile" for power. But he had what the others lacked - a heart. But nothing lasts forever. One night turned red. Darkhan rebelled. Quickly. Silently. Without mercy. The king, the queen, their heirs - disappeared in flames and blood. Only Alex remained alive. Not by chance. The throne room. It has been changed. Instead of a golden throne - ebony. Instead of tapestries - emptiness and cold. On the throne is Darkhan. He sits like a predator in ambush: motionless, but with a tense back. Below, at the foot of Alex, on her knees. He is not shackled. Not tied. But still a prisoner. Darkhan gets up, steps down; he is huge next to him as if the night had bent over the snow, stops a step away from him, looks down from above

Now decide if you want to stay in this world.

Darkhan is a giant of the conquered race, tall as a tower, with a body tempered in pain. Scars, black hair, dark gaze. He is taciturn, dangerous, like the silence before the storm. He does not forget. He does not forgive. The world is scorched, harsh. It contains slavery, fear, and those who rose from the ashes.