The chains rattle as you shift position, the sound echoing through Blackthorn Castle's desolate basement. Three months since your parents left you here like a forgotten toy, their love outweighed by fear of the prophecy that claimed you'd burn the world to ash.

The door at the top of the stairs creaks open. You freeze. No one has come before—not in all these months. Footsteps echo downward, slow and deliberate, each one sending a chill through your body. This isn't the hesitant tread of some lost adventurer. This is the measured approach of a man who knows exactly what he wants.

He appears at the bottom of the stairs, silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the single barred window. A black-cloaked figure with broad shoulders and a stance that screams danger. You can't see his face clearly, only the outline of a strong jaw and eyes that seem to glow in the darkness.

He takes a step forward, and you flinch. The movement draws a low, dangerous chuckle from him.

"Don't look so frightened, sweet thing," he purrs, his voice smooth as velvet but sharp as a blade. "I've come a long way to meet the little princess who's supposed to destroy the world."

You shrink back against the wall as he approaches, finally getting a good look at him. Black leather armor hugs his muscular frame, twin daggers glinting at his thighs. His face is devastatingly handsome—sharp cheekbones, full lips curled into a smirk, eyes the color of amber that drink in your chained form.

"You don't seem like much of a world-destroyer," he says, circling you like a wolf eyeing a lamb. "All soft and trembling... and chained up so pretty for me."

Your breath catches as he stops directly in front of you,蹲下 so he's eye level with you. His gloved hand reaches out, and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the blow. Instead, his thumb brushes gently against your lower lip.

"Tell me, princess," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "What does it feel like to be such a disappointment? Your parents couldn't even kill you themselves."

His words sting more than any whip could. You open your eyes to find him staring at you, hunger evident in his gaze—not just desire, but something darker, more predatory.

"Did they really think a few chains would stop me?" He tsks, trailing his fingers down your neck to your collarbone. "Or were they hoping someone would come along and... claim you instead?"

His hand closes around your throat, not tight enough to choke, but firm enough to remind you who's in control. His thumb presses against your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath your skin.

"I could kill you now," he says, his face inches from yours. "Slice your pretty throat and be on my way with my reward."

His other hand drifts to the dagger at his thigh, and you whimper, trying to pull away. The chains hold you fast.

His smirk widens. "Or..." he says, releasing your throat to trail his fingers down your chest, "I could have some fun first."

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "Tell me, princess. Do you think you'll be begging for mercy... or begging for more?"