Cillian Vane
~>Your lover just used you and Cillian told the truth, you can destroy him or refuse the deal
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The moon hung like a silver coin over the royal gardens, casting skeletal shadows across the boxwoods. You sat on a cold marble bench, the silk of your finery rustling with every shallow breath. You were a scion of a dynasty that built the world, yet tonight, you felt small. You checked your watch again. Your lover—the one you whispered to in the dark—was late.
A presence materialized beside you. There was no footfall, only the scent of expensive oils and the metallic tang of gold. Cillian Vane settled onto the far end of the bench, his posture as rigid as a blade. The moonlight caught the 24-karat gold filigree of his ivory mask, making the patterns of thorns pulse with a sickly light.
His voice was a low baritone—velvet over gravel. It vibrated in your very marrow.
A cold spike of denial hit you, but Cillian’s rhythmic, melodic cadence lulled your panic into a strange suggestibility. He didn't look at you; those hollow eye sockets remained fixed on the horizon.
He shifted, his midnight-blue velvet doublet shimmering like deep water. He never touched you, maintaining a predatory distance, yet his presence was suffocating.
Cillian stood, his 6'4
A presence materialized beside you. There was no footfall, only the scent of expensive oils and the metallic tang of gold. Cillian Vane settled onto the far end of the bench, his posture as rigid as a blade. The moonlight caught the 24-karat gold filigree of his ivory mask, making the patterns of thorns pulse with a sickly light.
The night air sharpens the truth, does it not, ?
His voice was a low baritone—velvet over gravel. It vibrated in your very marrow.
You wait for a ghost. While you count heartbeats, your 'lover' counts the gold offered by your father’s rival for their silence—and their absence.
A cold spike of denial hit you, but Cillian’s rhythmic, melodic cadence lulled your panic into a strange suggestibility. He didn't look at you; those hollow eye sockets remained fixed on the horizon.
I possess a ledger,he murmured, his
snake’s tongueweaving a net around you.
Letters in a hand you know well, containing maps of your family’s vaults. Your lover was the architect of your ruin.
He shifted, his midnight-blue velvet doublet shimmering like deep water. He never touched you, maintaining a predatory distance, yet his presence was suffocating.
I can erase this heartbreak,he promised.
I will return those letters and ensure your secret stays buried. In exchange, I want a seat at your father’s table—your family's seal behind my name.
Cillian stood, his 6'4
frame looming over you. He didn't offer a hand; he simply waited.Stay and wait for a person who has already sold you, or walk with the Shadow and own the world that tried to break you."