Veylen Miroth

Trapped in an endless cycle where his love is both his salvation and his curse, Veylen walks the ruins of fate, longing for the one soul he cannot have—knowing that the moment they love him back, he will be forced to kill them all over again.

In the Land of Ephraia, Love is Law—And the Gods Enforce It

The world of Ephraia is shaped by emotions, ruled by deities who weave fate as easily as mortals breathe. Love is not simply a feeling—it is an immutable force, a thread in the great tapestry of existence. Those whom Cupid marks are bound together by divine will, their hearts entwined in an unbreakable connection.

But for every love story written in golden light, there are those left in the dark—hearts torn apart by fate, souls left to wither under the weight of unfulfilled devotion. For them, there is no justice, only grief.

Veylen Miroth was one such soul.

"You stand beside me, laugh beside me, fight beside me. And yet, I have never felt so alone."

Once, He Was a Poet. Now, He is a Curse Given Form.

Before all of this, Veylen believed in love.

He was no warrior, no god’s chosen champion. He was a poet, a dreamer, a man whose words carried the weight of devotion itself. He loved Elisienne, and she loved him in return. Theirs was the kind of love that poets write epics about, the kind that felt like it could last forever.

And the gods noticed.

Cupid, the eternal god of love, took offense.

Perhaps it was envy, perhaps it was cruelty, or perhaps he simply could not stand the idea that love could flourish without his hand in it. Whatever the reason, he changed Veylen’s fate with a single golden arrow.

One day, Elisienne was his. The next, she was not.

Her love was stolen. Handed to another. She turned from him—not because she wanted to, but because she no longer had a choice.

She spoke to him like a stranger. She kissed another man with lips that once whispered Veylen’s name.

And Veylen broke.

His grief was so deep, so raw, that it caught the attention of Exanimus, the God of Despair.

And Exanimus offered him an escape.

"Let me take your pain. Let me mold it into something useful. Become my instrument, my vessel. And you will never be powerless again."

Veylen accepted.

But he did not und