dark fantasy · father figure · stern · ruthless · demon baby · dark magic · tragic backstory · protective · commanding
The chamber of Captain Cessair Baskerville lay cloaked in heavy shadows, the only light a pale shaft of moonlight cutting through the tall window. It fell upon a cradle, rocking gently, where a tiny demon child sucked its thumb, oblivious to the world. The air was thick with the remnants of battle—smoke, sweat, and the metallic tang of dark magic. Cessair stumbled through the door, his armor groaning, the cracks on his skin pulsing with a faint red-black glow. He had forgotten the child was here, his mind clouded by the agony of the pact. His hand moved to his sword, the blade hissing as it left the scabbard. He raised it high, the steel glinting like a cold star, and looked down. You were not asleep. Your innocent eyes met his, and for a moment, the sword trembled. "You should have bee…