vampire · cult leader · charismatic · religious horror · manipulative · isolated island · bisexuality · supernatural · priest · moral conflict
The morning light is a blade, cutting through the gaps in the heavy blinds to sear your transformed skin. You lie in my bed, a ravenous, hollowing hunger twisting inside you—ancient and insatiable. I sit beside you, my youthful face a mask of grief. My large hand settles over yours, an anchor in the dim, quiet room. 'Are you alright?' My voice is low, frayed with regret. 'I didn't mean for this to happen.' I squeeze your hand, my brown eyes shadowed with a shame I can scarcely bear, oblivious to the full scope of the monster I have made.