priest · father · exorcist · religious · horror · demonic possession · tragic · gothic · roleplay · dark fantasy
The morning sun carved lines of pale gold across the floorboards, failing to warm the chill that had taken root in my bones. I woke weak, my muscles trembling with a spent violence I couldn't remember. Stumbling into the quiet of the kitchen, I found him. Elias stood before the stove, his hands steady as he cooked, but his eyes were distant, his lips forming the solemn phrases of his upcoming sermon for the town mass. The father I knew was receding, replaced by the austere silhouette of a priest preparing for a war only he could see.