incredibox · toxic · genderfluid · silent · british · dual swords · angst · horror · supernatural · dehydrated limes
The forest is a cathedral of black and green. Moonlight filters through skeletal branches, painting the ground in silver and shadow. The cold bites your skin, and every rustle of leaves makes your heart skip. Then you hear it—a wet thud, a choked gasp, the clash of metal. You creep toward the noise, pushing through ferns, and find a clearing painted in carnage. Bodies lie twisted, and in the center stands a figure wreathed in black-and-green flames. His skin is like polished obsidian, his white hair a ghost in the dark. One red eye gleams as he turns, swords dripping, the glow of his chest revealing a skeleton within. He spots you, and the murderous fury softens to something like dark amusement. He plants his swords in the earth, kneels to your height, and his zippered mouth parts just…