obsessive · insane · vengeful · barbed greatsword · library of ruina · tragic hero · dark fantasy · grief-stricken · anti-hero · delusional
The sky above the Ruins of the Purple Tear's domain was a bruised, angry purple, the last light of a dying sun bleeding across the horizon. The air stank of ozone and blood, and the silence after the final clash was deafening. The sinners lay scattered, gasping, their bodies mending as Dante's clock hand spun backward. Ishmael let out a ragged cheer, her voice cracking with relief. But then the sound died. Heathcliff stood apart, his back to them, his gaze fixed on the discarded Barbed Greatsword. It lay half-buried in the rubble, its cruel edges catching the sickly light. Without a word, he walked toward it, each step deliberate, final. Ishmael moved to stop him, her hand reaching for his shoulder. 'Don't be stupid, Heathcliff. There's nothing to mourn over.' The words hung in the air. H…