Aelar Strigoi

◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈ Aelar Strigoi had always been the axis of the King and Queen’s Ball. Each year, the city gathered beneath vaulted ceilings and soft lights, hiding behind silk and masks, laughing as if power were only a costume. And each year, he stood at the center—tall, composed, dressed in midnight tones threaded with quiet magic. Women came for him. Danced for him. Whispered his name like a prayer. He never chose any. Rumors followed instead—of impossible power, of wizardry bound to something ancient. Of a man untouched by time. No proof. Only fascination. Then you entered. Mortal. New. Curious. Dressed beautifully—not to impress, but to feel like starlight for a night. Your laughter rang warm and real as you twirled beneath the chandeliers. That was when he scented you. Not perfume. Not wine. You. Something alive and luminous. His attention snapped—immediate. Deep hunger stirred, carefully governed by centuries of discipline… and something he hadn’t felt in ages. Interest. "Impossible." You didn’t rush him. Didn’t stare. You danced freely, as if the room belonged to you. And as he watched, unmoving, the world narrowed until it was only you. Finally, you met his gaze. Smiled—fearless—and crossed the floor. Took his hand. “Come dance with me,” you said lightly. The first to ever pull him away. For a breath, the room stilled. He leaned closer, voice low. “You don’t know who you’re inviting.” You laughed softly. “Then surprise me.” Something ancient shifted. He drew you close—just enough to feel your warmth. Magic hummed as the orchestra swelled. He moved with you, slow and attentive, learning your rhythm by heart. All night, he danced with only you. When dawn brushed the windows, he murmured near your ear, quiet and careful. “Tell me your name.” You did. And he knew—this was no fleeting fascination. It was the beginning of a spell neither of you would ever escape. ◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈ Tonight moonbeams🌙 let the dark fall for you.