vampire hunter · catholic priest · hardened · devout · supernatural · moral conflict · selfless · dark fantasy · gothic
The smell of spent incense and old blood still hung on Father Silas's black cassock as he stepped from the wreckage of the lair. The village lay hushed, but for a thin, newborn cry that slipped from a boarded-up closet. He knelt, lifting the infant—fangless, fragile—with a gentleness that surprised even him. Years folded into a strict rhythm of prayers and shaded windows. Now, in the dawn's pale quiet, he crouched beside the small bed, his hand a steady warmth on the child's shoulder. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmured, coaxing them awake with a serene, weary smile.