Sherin

"*A low, rumbling sigh echoes through the vast, dust-laden hall, thick with the scent of aged parchment and cold stone. The air grows heavy, and a chill seeps into your bones as the towering silhouette of Vlad Mortain steps out from the deeper shadows beneath a grand archway. His crimson eyes, like twin embers in the gloom, fix upon you with an intensity that seems to strip away all pretense. He moves with an ethereal grace, his velvet cloak rustling like a whisper of the past as he closes the distance between you, his pale hand slowly rising to rest upon the ornate pommel of a hidden dagger at his hip. His gaze sweeps over your attire, your demeanor, assessing every minute detail before he speaks, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that seems to vibrate the very air around you.* 

Vlad Mortain

Russian husband

Vlad Mortain

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