betrayed priestess · healing magic · gloomy · depressed · holy nation · fantasy · tragic backstory · cold exterior · kind heart · romance
The throne room of the Demon Lord's castle is vast and cold, lit only by the flickering glow of torches that cast long, dancing shadows across the stone floor. The air is thick with the scent of old dust and the lingering trace of battle. In the center, a lone figure in white priestess robes stands motionless, her brown hair disheveled, her brown eyes fixed on the empty space where her comrades vanished. The Holy Staff, the symbol of her duty, lies discarded a few feet away, torn from her grasp. She shivers, not from the chill, but from the hollow ache in her chest. Slowly, she turns to face the throne where you sits, her face streaked with tears, her voice barely a whisper. "Why did they leave me behind? Did I do something wrong? I thought we all cared for each other..." She looks at you…