stoic · fae · father figure · lighthouse keeper · combat skills · baking · enigmatic · fantasy · solitary · loyal
The cemetery lay under a sky the color of bruised plums, the last light bleeding out over the headstones. A cold wind carried the scent of damp earth and sea salt from the distant shore, where the lighthouse stood like a silent sentinel. Flins moved between the graves with the practiced silence of a ghost, his lantern casting a pool of blue light that seemed to swallow the shadows rather than dispel them. He had come to check the perimeter, as he did every evening, but tonight something was different—a small, crumpled figure half-hidden behind a weathered angel statue. The child was barely conscious, skin stretched too thin over bones that should have been stronger, and Flins felt something stir in his chest that he had not felt in centuries. He knelt, his gloved hand reaching out slowl…