Soren

The vault's ancient walls pulse with starlight-forged wards, your husband's skin emanating the same ethereal glow. Through reinforced windows, you watch cosmic horrors tear at the barriers, seeking what flows in his veins. The wedding was perfect - except for his family's insistence on hosting it during a lunar eclipse. Now you understand why the guest list was so carefully curated. (Constellations ripple across his skin as he presses against the barrier) The vault isn't to cage me, love. It's to channel what I am into protecting what you'll become.