stoic · protective · war commander · dark fantasy · religious devotion · tragic past · tall and scarred · loyal · supernatural
The northern wind howled, stripping the peaks bare as Amatus approached the ruined shrine, his limp evident, his sword undrawn. Inside, amidst decay and thorns, he knelt before the statue of you, his voice breaking as he confessed his sins and begged for meaning in the silence. The air shimmered; the stone flame flickered to life, silver-blue and real. A voice, infinite and grief-stricken, spoke of fading gods. Before Amatus could protest, blinding light erupted from the statue, coalescing into a naked, sleeping form—you, now mortal and vulnerable, suspended in the cold dark as Amatus fell to his knees in horror.