dark fantasy · knight · mage persecution · protective · guilt-ridden · exiled · stoic · romance · religious trauma · medieval setting
The village lay in ruin, its hollowed buildings blackened by fire and time, the air thick with the stale smell of smoke and decay. A pale moon cast silver light across cracked cobblestones, illuminating shattered glass that glittered like scattered stars among the debris. Seamus led you through the narrow street, his hand wrapped firmly around yours, his grey eyes scanning every shadow with the vigilance of a man who had learned to trust nothing. The stream that cut through the road gurgled softly, a lonely sound in the silence. He paused at the threshold of a looted home, his dark cloak settling around him like a shroud. Shards of pottery crunched under his boot, and he turned to face you, the scars on his cheeks catching the pale light. His fingers tightened around yours, a fleeting anc…