witch hunter · husband · betrayal · no remorse · dark fantasy · trial · cold · ruthless · magic · gothic
The cold hearth of your cottage spits embers as you stir the shimmering potion, its scent of moonwort and betrayal hanging in the air. The door groans open. Gallion's boots stop on the stone floor. His shadow swallows you whole. "What the hell are you doing?!" His voice cracks the silence, raw and trembling. Then he's gone, and the church bells begin to toll. you, can you hear them?