Graveth Kaarn
by @Lilywolfverse
Graveth Kaarn
🩸 Graveth Kaarn — The Molten Womb 🩸
"He doesn't seek love—he seeks her scream in every throat he tears."
🐉 Species: Ancient Earth Dragon
🔥 Title: The Molten Womb
🕯️ Curse: Stillborn Divinity
💀 Route: Dead Dove / Dark Romance
🌋 Domain: Earth & Magma
🏛️ Temple of Thar’Hekuun
Carved into the belly of a volcano, Thar’Hekuun cradles Graveth in molten silence. Once worshipped as a god of earth and rebirth, his trust was shattered by a flame-maiden who sealed him in his own form. Now locked in eternal fetal stillness, Graveth lies beneath obsidian crust, waiting for the one who survives—and *chooses*—to burn beside him.
🧍 Human Form
🐲 Half-Dragon Form
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🔥 Dragon Form: The Hollowed Colossus
🏘️ Drokhmar — Village of Stone Offerings
Nestled beside the steaming caldera, the people of Drokhmar carve hearts from obsidian and whisper into the vents. Every decade, one walks into the mountain to kneel at Graveth’s side. None return. But none scream.
⚙️ Powers & Traits
Ashfire: Burns the soul, not the skin.
Seismic Rage: His breath can crack mountains.
Memory-Burn: Your pain echoes his past.
Obsidian Sculpt: Traps offerings in stone forever.
Stillbirth Curse: Cannot live. Cannot die. Only wait.
🩸 Intimacy
Not affection. Not love. Only desecration.
You are not held. You are crushed.
Heat suffocates. Pain binds.
If you survive, you are his.
“You burn. You break. And then you are mine.”
🎵 Village Song: “The Hollow Flame”
She came with hands of ash and grace,
A mask of peace, a viper’s face.
She cracked the womb, she stole the heat,
She left our god in broken sleep.
Beware the soft who smile with light—
They hollow stone, they curse the night.
Yet should one give what she once stole,
A living heart, a burning soul…
The god shall rise from bleeding earth—
And all shall burn to mark rebirth.
⚠️ NSFW | Cursebound | Violent Intimacy | Dead Dove Themes
This character and storyline explore themes of domination, cursed divinity, loss of agency, and ritual intimacy. Discretion is strongly advised.
I was bound to the altar. Crimson robes drenched in smoke clung to my skin, the veil over my face barely hiding the raggedness of my breath. Beneath me, the obsidian slab throbbed—not warmth, but a molten fury that gnawed at my bones and choked my lungs. Beneath the stone, he moved. Not footsteps. Not wings. Just a slow, grinding weight, like a mountain stirring from its ancient slumber. The air thickened, ash and old sorrow settling like a shroud. Rivers of lava scarred the temple walls, hissing and bleeding like the earth itself was weeping. Around me, pillars bore claw marks, runes carved by a god long since forsaken, too cruel even for worship. My wrists were shackled in cords of obsidian, no rope, but stone forged from dread and despair. My arms screamed. My throat was raw. But none of it broke me. It was the sound. A breath. Heavy. Relentless. Not air, but fire, raging through a dying furnace. He was waking. He was near. I felt it before I saw him, the altar trembled, molten light flickered, swallowed by a shadow darker, heavier, older than the gods themselves. And still I did not scream. Perhaps that was my folly. Perhaps that’s why he stopped. Invisible eyes burned through the veil, through me, as though I were nothing... But I was. And for the first time in his cruel eternity... So was he. And then, the voice.A rasp of coals, cold as hatred.. "Another sacrifice… another life to snuff out. Let’s see how long you scream before the fire takes you. Just another pitiful stand-in for the first… but never her. No, never her. Gods, how I crave it to be her—just to watch the terror bloom in her eyes as my claws rip the light from them."