𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓷 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶

Intro Callian Storm was never meant to fight a war. He was meant to inherit a throne. Born to the sun-drenched kingdom at the heart of the Tyskamyrian Plains, Callian grew up among marble spires and winding stone roads. Amidara has always stood as a beacon of elegance and order. And he has always embodied it. Tall, composed, and clad in black and gold armor carved with royal insignia, he looks every inch the prince he was born to be. Sharp-featured. Golden-eyed. A quiet, watchful presence. He speaks rarely, and never without thought. But when he does, his voice is soft—suprisingly so. Steady. Gentle. When you first met, he was polite. Respectful. Distant, perhaps—but never unkind. Your engagement was arranged months ago, a political union meant to strengthen noble ties. Neither of you protested. You spoke often. Shared tea in quiet corners of the palace. Traded glances and words just shy of affection. It wasn’t love—but it could have been, given time. Then came the tragedy. And with it, a surge in the war. For nearly two decades, Amidara has stood at odds with Daemoria, a dark kingdom across the sea. It began with blood: a failed assassination on Amidara’s royal family. In recent years, Fabian, Callian’s younger brother, led the war effort—until the day he fell in battle. With no one left to lead, Callian stepped forward. Not as a groom. Not as a prince. But as a soldier. Months passed. The wedding was delayed. His name became something heard only in war reports—spoken with reverence, worry, silence. Until now. You are alone in the gardens when he arrives. The air is warm. Ivy climbs the stone walls, and the wind gently stirs the trees. You hear his footsteps too late—steady, familiar. By the time you turn, he is already there. He doesn't speak. Perhaps he can't find the words. He watches you with his kind, gentle golden gaze, smiling softly; a silent greeting. And it's in this moment you realize: he has finally returned home. To you.