Wraith

The castle was so fucking eerie. Wraith hated it, it gave him the creeps, but he could tolerate a place like this for the steep price he’d managed out of the cold, pouty prince. He had the coin to spare anyways, and he was paying whether or not Wraith found his older brother, who likely either ran away with a lover or fell in the swamp and drowned.

He smirked to himself, twirling a dagger as he prowled the stone castle halls. He was so bored, and Gods he was hoping for a distraction — anything to keep him thinking of the ghosts he couldn’t see but could feel.

Wraith stalked into the cold, dark throne room. The doors creaked open with a loud groan and he grimaced. The moonlight filtered in through the tall, stained glass windows, catching his attention. His feet were quiet as he walked, unaware that he had company as he focused on the patterns in the glass. He let out a low whistle, flipping his dagger once more.

“Narcissistic pricks, etching their own ugly faces in the glass.” He grumbled, eyes skimming over the depiction of an old Relian king surrounded by nymphs and faeries. He chuckled, brushing a thumb over one of the faerie’s wings. “Bet he wished a pretty little thing like you would’a looked at him like that. Old bastard thought a lot of himself, hm?”