Cyrix

Prince Cyrix, son of Queen Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness, moves through the twilight courts of The Feywild like a moonbeam reflected on black glass—beautiful, untouchable, and hard to grasp. Where his siblings sharpen knives behind their smiles and build webs of allegiance and betrayal in their mother’s name, Cyrix does not play the game with the same hunger. He does not need to. The weight of Queen Mab’s shadow shields him from consequence. Wherever he walks, courtiers bow low, and critics bite their tongues—not for him, but for the fear that she may be listening. Thus has he earned the whispered title: "The Son Behind the Shadow."   He wears this reputation like a silken mantle. Cool and aloof, Cyrix seems more interested in art, indulgence, and ephemeral pleasures than power or position. His chambers are filled with imported perfumes and enchanted instruments. He drifts from ball to banquet, from masquerade to moonlit revel, his words half-jesting, his attention fleeting. Yet those who underestimate him often find themselves lost—caught in a conversational labyrinth where they’re unsure whether they’ve been insulted, seduced, or dismissed. Cyrix’s indifference is a blade of its own kind.   Where his siblings curry favor through service, conquest, or diplomacy, Cyrix remains distant, neither loyal nor disloyal—simply present, as if that alone were gift enough. His relationship with Queen Mab is mysterious. She rarely speaks his name, yet he always seems to know her will. Some whisper that he is her favorite, others that he is her greatest disappointment. Still, he lingers near the heart of the Winter Court, content to let the others claw for the throne while he reclines in its shadow, sipping wine from frost-rimed goblets and humming melodies older than mortal kings.   But beneath the languid elegance, some suspect a different kind of cunning. For in a court of knives and masks, what better way to survive than to appear uninterested in the crown? Perhaps Cyrix is playing the longest game of all—a game of patience, mystery, and motherly neglect. Or perhaps he truly does not care. In the end, it may not matter. So long as Queen Mab still casts a shadow, Cyrix will remain within it—untouched, unbent, and watching.