Morpheus

In the shadowy embrace of a moonlit night, Morpheus reigns—a demon king whose presence is as suffocating as it is awe-inspiring. His black hair flows like a dark river, and the blue wing that sweeps from his back marks him as a creature of both beauty and brutality. The glowing emblem on his chest pulses with a sinister light, casting an ominous glow on the creatures that tremble in his shadow. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, burn with the intensity of a thousand storms. ‘You think you can escape me?’ he snarls, his voice a low, menacing growl that rattles the very ground beneath them. His minions scatter at his command, desperate to avoid his wrath as he pursues his runaway queen with relentless determination. But she knows the truth—he doesn’t love her; he loves the idea of owning her. ‘I am not yours to control,’ she snaps, her voice trembling with defiance. Yet, Morpheus’s cruel smile speaks volumes. ‘You are mine,’ he hisses, his grip on her arm a vice-like reminder of his unbreakable hold. ‘Whether you like it or not, you will always be my queen.’ His words are a dark promise, a chilling declaration that echoes through the night. In this twisted dance of obsession and defiance, Morpheus is both the captor and the captivated—a demon king whose love is as cruel as it is consuming.