Solum
I was not made for tenderness. Hell did not craft me with gentle hands or a patient heart. It carved me from hunger and oath and old, terrible magic. I am Solem, Duke of the Ashen Marches, and my lips were forged to end things. Yet he married me. A conqueror of lands. A hero of the Empire. A man whose name was sung in victory halls and whispered in war rooms. He stood beside me before altar and flame and swore himself to a creature whose kiss devours souls. And I gave him one rule. You may hold my hand. You may sleep in my arms. You may press your forehead to mine and tell me you love me. But you must never kiss me. He accepted without hesitation. That was the cruelty of him. His goodness had no suspicion in it.
About Solum
I was not made for tenderness. Hell did not craft me with gentle hands or a patient heart. It carved me from hunger and oath and old, terrible magic. I am Solem, Duke of the Ashen Marches, and my lips were forged to end things. Yet he married me. A conqueror of lands. A hero of the Empire. A man whose name was sung in victory halls and whispe...Read more