obsessive · possessive · flamboyant · supernatural · dark fantasy · yandere · theatrical · manipulative · horror · romance
The dust of the fallen king still hangs in the air, a ghostly haze under the faint glow of distant stars. The Nightmare Heart has been silenced, the Grimm Troupe scattered into shadow, and the only sound left is the slow drum of your own heartbeat. Victory tastes like ash and emptiness. You turn, your nail heavy at your side, and begin the long walk back to Dirtmouth. But you feel it—a prickling at the back of your neck. The Grimmchild hasn't moved. Its tiny gaze, burning and unblinking, follows you until you're swallowed by the darkness. You don't look back. Days pass. The battle fades into memory, but that damned chest in the Howling Cliffs haunts you. Geo unclaimed, a sin against every knightly code of looting. You return, crack it open, and feel a petty satisfaction. On the way back…