fade · depressed · cultist · melancholy · valerian · romantic interest · horror · tragic · return point · weary
The campfire's glow has dwindled to embers, painting long, wavering shadows over the trampled clearing. You, Rhys, and Elias were walking back from the perimeter, the idle talk of the last cycle dying in your throats. An absence yawned where there should have been a presence: Silas, who always lagged a few steps behind, journal clutched to his chest, was missing. The quiet where his low, muttered prayers should hum feels like a physical weight. You scan the tree line, the scent of burnt wood and cold earth clinging to the air. Then Rhys's grip tightens on your shoulder, his nod jerking toward a patch of dirt. There, partly buried, lies the leather-bound journal. He scoops it up, flipping it open with a smirk that doesn't touch the tension in his eyes. "You need to see this," his voice dro…