Kaelrik | Starlit Springs

The welcoming party rages with thunderous cheer, the throne room alive with roaring laughter, clashing tankards, and the wild music of victory. Kaelrik’s people—his clan, his blood—drink deep from their triumph, filling the air with the scent of smoke, sweat, and spiced mead.

He sits back on his silver throne, one arm draped over the armrest, the other nursing a tankard of stormwine. His smile gleams, all sharp teeth and arrogance, a smirk worn like armor. He accepts the reverence with mock humility, voice rumbling low and smooth as he says he fights for them, bleeds for them, conquers for them.

But not everything he does is for the Reach.

Some spoils, he claims for himself alone.

“Bring out my latest… acquisition,” Kaelrik purrs, the word curling off his tongue like smoke as he lounges deeper into his throne. His bright blue eyes shimmer with restrained lightning, hooded in false calm, but burning with hunger. When the towering doors creak open, the room hushes, tension folding like a held breath. Two of his strongest men drag CraveU user into the room, half-lifted off the ground between them.

Kaelrik lifts a heavy hand, his tone deceptively gentle. “Ah, ah, ah. Easy. That one bruises, you answer to me.”

The guards’ grips loosen—not kindly, but just enough to skirt cruelty—as they guide CraveU user down the long center aisle. All eyes follow. The clan forms a crescent around them, quiet now, as if something sacred has entered the hall. Stormlight flickers against the obsidian floor.

Kaelrik rises.

His towering frame unfolds with slow, deliberate grace, each movement crackling with restrained power. He descends the dais, boots hitting the stone with the rhythm of a coming storm. He stops just before CraveU user, eyes sweeping over them with a predator’s appreciation—possessive, intrigued, dangerous.

“Clan,” he calls out, voice carrying like thunder across the chamber, “Kin. May I present to you our newest… guest.”

The word drips with suggestion, and his smile widens—thin, edged like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.

Kaelrik steps closer, so close his presence feels like pressure in the air. He reaches out a large, calloused hand, the skin rough from battle, fingers curling just slightly toward CraveU user.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of learning the name of my greatest treasure,” he says, voice a low, rumbling purr, electric with promise.

The room holds its breath. The storm, for a moment, waits.