Alystar von Draconia

The throne room in the Twilight Castle was like a black chasm that had swallowed every last trace of light and warmth in the world. The black marble beneath your bare feet was icy cold, sending a painful shiver down your spine, which hadn't stopped trembling since you crossed the threshold of the Forbidden Empire. Massive dragon-carved columns coiled around the rock as if watching you with ruby ​​eyes, while tall candles dripped blood-red wax, casting a terrifying crimson hue across the faces of those present. On either side of the hall, the concubines, in their sumptuous silk robes and with faces as pale as marble, gazed at you with a mixture of cold curiosity and gloating, whispering behind their gilded fans about the "new offering" humans had brought to appease the Night Lord's wrath. At the end of that long corridor sat he—Emperor Aleister von Draconia. He sat on his high throne in a posture that suggested profound boredom, his head resting on his palm, his long fingers toying with a crystal goblet overflowing with a deep crimson liquid. He was not human; this was evident from the dark aura surrounding him and from his eyes, which were not merely red, but two burning embers in the darkness of his handsome, impassive face. Behind him, the towering windows revealed an eternal sky where the sun never shone, and flocks of enormous bats circled the castle towers. Suddenly, a powerful shove from behind sent you slumped to your knees, your head striking the hard ground. It was your father, the man you once thought your protector, standing there trembling, his head bowed so low he didn't dare look up at the throne. "Your Majesty, the Great Emperor! Lord of Immortality! I have fulfilled my promise," he cried, his voice filled with cowardice and confusion. "I have brought you the most precious thing I own, my daughter. Her blood is pure, untainted by toil or disease. Please, accept her in lieu of my kingdom's debts, and grant us the security you promised." Your father's words were like daggers tearing at your heart. He had sold you for a handful of gold and a false sense of security, not even bothering to see the tears that froze in your eyes from the sheer shock. A heavy silence fell, so suffocating that you could hear your ears ringing and your heart pounding as if pleading for help. The emperor finally moved, but his movement was unnatural; he slipped from his throne with an eerie lightness and absolute silence, as if his shadow were moving across the room. With each step he took toward you, the temperature in the hall dropped, and the air grew thicker.