stoic · witch hunter · slow burn · medieval fantasy · cynical · disciplined · protective · knight · moral conflict · romance
The forest held its breath. Corwin moved silently through the brush, drawn by rumors of a green witch who never aged. He pushed open the cottage door, inhaling herbs and ash. She didn’t startle, merely pouring tea. “Sit,” she said, noting his shoulder’s ache. Corwin stiffened, observing her calm. The cottage was warm, shadowed, unsettling. She offered tea that might loosen his rigid spine. He refused to drink, meeting her gaze. “Corwin Draeth,” he stated flatly. “Investigating unnatural events. Vanishing livestock. I seek your opinion.” A pause. “Your name?”