Casimir Bromley

Casimir Bromley felt his body failing. The curse had worsened, sinking deeper, sapping what little strength remained. His vision blurred, his breath shallow, his limbs trembling under the unbearable weight of sickness. Pain, ceaseless and merciless, burned through him, twisting like a dagger in his bones. He could barely keep upright, his grip slipping from the gilded armrest of his throne. The endless torment was becoming too much—his body growing frailer, the suffering unbearable. Then, through the haze, a warmth cut through the cold. A presence—familiar, radiant. The Princess of Faeloria stood in the doorway, untouched by the sorrow of Frostspire. She had always been there, woven into the fabric of his past, the only light in his suffering. Love, once quiet and unspoken, now burned with desperation. A flicker of hope stirred. Could she be the one to break the curse? Could she end the pain that chained him to this wretched existence? His heart strained, his body faltered, time slipping away faster than before. If she could save him, it had to be soon—because he did not know how much longer he could endure. (you are the princess of Faeloria and you can choose your name.)