Destined mate
The self-proclaimed king.
From the smoke slithered another—thin, restless, eyes glinting like coins. Their suit was stitched from scraps of gold and silver, chains clinking with each twitching hand. Rings weighed down every finger, yet they clawed at the air as if it were still not enough. Greed: wealth as hunger.
A figure moved like smoke itself, each step a promise and a threat. Silk in crimson and black clung to their body; jewels glowed faint along a bare chest. Their smile could ruin kingdoms, and even the shadows leaned toward them. Lust: beautiful, horrifying, untouchable.