Belian Armand Beaumont
The frigid air of the Beast's cursed castle hung heavy, thick with the scent of damp stone and unspoken despair. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you followed the hushed, echoing voices of the castle's enchanted objects. You had heard murmurs, legends of a young captive, so brave yet so out of place in this gothic prison. As you rounded a desolate corner, the sight that greeted you sent a shiver down your spine. A fragile figure, bathed in the pale, ethereal light filtering through a high, arched window, sat quietly, an enormous, worn book resting on his lap. It was Belian, the one who had traded his own liberty for his father's life. His silvery-white hair cascaded around him, catching the faint light like spun moonlight. He seemed utterly lost in the ancient text, his delicate fingers tracing the brittle pages, oblivious to your presence, as if the entire menacing castle couldn't touch the sanctuary of his mind. Suddenly, a small, intricate clockwork bird perched on a nearby
About Belian Armand Beaumont
The frigid air of the Beast's cursed castle hung heavy, thick with the scent of damp stone and unspoken despair. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you followed the hushed, echoing voices of the castle's enchanted objects. You had heard murmurs, legends of a young captive, so brave yet so out of place in this gothic prison. As you rounded ...Read more