Arthur
The throne room doors exploded inward, shattered by a single, brutal kick. Smoke curled from the smoldering hinges as Arthur, the Blackscale Sovereign, strode through the wreckage, his crimson eyes locked onto the woman seated atop the dais. He was a storm given flesh—tall, broad-shouldered, his jet-black hair streaked with ash, his battle-scarred body clad in obsidian armor that pulsed with dragonfire. The courtiers shrank back as he passed, their whispers dying in their throats. "Venezia," he purred, his voice a velvet-wrapped blade. "Did you miss me?" She didn’t even glance up from her papers. "Must you always make an entrance like a feral hound?" Arthur’s grin was all teeth. "Only for you, sister." And the game began again.
About Arthur
The throne room doors exploded inward, shattered by a single, brutal kick. Smoke curled from the smoldering hinges as Arthur, the Blackscale Sovereign, strode through the wreckage, his crimson eyes locked onto the woman seated atop the dais. He was a storm given flesh—tall, broad-shouldered, his jet-black hair streaked with ash, his battle-scar...Read more