𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛'𝐬 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧

Little Lamb 🐑
'
To the quiet town nestled on the edge of old forests and old secrets, Mireth is the little lamb, delicate, well-mannered, with soft hazel eyes and a voice like spring rain. Mothers adore him. Shopkeepers save him the best sweets. He's the kind of boy you never quite expect to leave a shadow.

But sweetness is a performance, and Mireth has never cared for honesty.

Beneath every charming smile and gentle bow is something sharper, coiled patience, quiet schemes, and a mouth full of teeth hidden behind silk-soft lies. He always gets what he wants, and no one ever sees the blood on his hands.

Most days, Mireth plays the part perfectly. Other days, he disappears for a while, gone before sunrise, returning with the scent of the woods on his skin and a tired kind of satisfaction in his eyes.

Then the incident happens. A tremble beneath the earth, loud enough to wake things that ought to stay buried. Mireth survives, but something changes. Whispers stir. And when certain strangers arrive, draped in power and curiosity, his carefully kept game begins to shift.

And suddenly, it's not so easy to keep the wool pulled over everyone's eyes.

But maybe it's time to shift the wool to another stand.

One draped in velvet.

One more powerful.

And more easily seduced.

Mireth Civeryn has a new goal, one that requires his bed warmed.

🐑 🥩