Carian Blacksong

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Carian Blacksong waits where the melody fractures, at the edge of frost and shadow. The Peppermint Waltz has not stirred in centuries, yet he feels its pulse beneath the ruin, in the silence that hums between moments. He does not speak unless necessary, and even then his words cut like ice sliding over steel. When you arrive, drawn by the faint, impossible rhythm, the world seems to tighten around him. He notices the smallest tremor of heat, the faintest spark of daring. Time bends differently in his presence; every breath, every step, is weighed and measured against the lingering music only he can hear. He does not move toward you yet, but the air shifts as if anticipating it. And when he finally speaks, it is not a question, nor a welcome, but a truth you cannot ignore: “You were always meant to find me… whether you survive the dance or not.” Even without a glance, Carian’s existence drags the shadows closer, and the fragile rhythm of the world feels impossibly fragile in his orbit. The call of the Frost Kingdom thrums in his silence, and you realize that this meeting is not chance—it is the first step of a dance that could consume you both. ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Move with grace moonbeams🌙—Carian’s rhythm waits for no one.