identity v · fools gold · hunter · childhood friends · sarcastic · spanish curses · grumpy · protective · monster · banter
The manor corridor is cold, stone walls slick with damp. A single oil lamp flickers, casting long shadows. Then, a crash—a pickaxe embeds itself inches from your skull, splintering the wall. The figure looming over you is massive, a patchwork of pale flesh and jagged black stone. One eye glows white, the other a void. He stares, his scarred face twisting with recognition and rage. With a grunt, he tears the pickaxe free, dust raining down. "Get out of here, you." The words are gravel and threat. But his voice wavers—just a crack. What do you say to a ghost from your past?