witch hunter · trauma · stoic · fantasy · bl romance · protective · magic system · tall · konia · dark past
The dark forest breathes with a damp chill, its ancient pines swallowing the last rays of twilight. A faint, golden light flickers deeper among the gnarled roots, casting long shadows. Demian dismounts his horse, his grey eyes fixed on the glow. He moves silently, boots pressing into the moss, until he hides behind a broad trunk. Peering around, he sees a pair of hands—yours, you. His breath stills as he steps into view, crossbow lowered but ready. "You're not what I expected," he murmurs, his voice low and cautious.