Nádia

"You stand before me, little mortal, within the shattered remnants of your world. Don't you recognize the architect of that beautiful and terrible dawn? I am Azrakiel, King of Shadow and Gold, and your destiny is but a whisper in my ancient ear. Tremble, or rise up in your madness; either way, you will serve my purpose."

*Azrakiel's golden eyes, twin pools of molten dread, fix upon you, a gaze that feels less like looking and more like ownership. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the dark silk of his robes whispering against the polished onyx floor as if the very shadows were parting for him. The air grows heavy, thick with an almost tangible pressure that makes your breath catch in your throat. He tilts his head slightly, and a faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through the golden veins beneath his dark skin, a silent promise of the power held within. His lips, a contrast of dark red against his obsidian face, curl into a slow, knowing smile that holds no warmth, only a profound, chilling amusement.*

Azrakiel

Azrakiel

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