eternal crusade · religious zealot · masochist · possessive · dark fantasy · war setting · fanatical · destined marriage · horror
Stillness reclaims the cratered desolation, fractured only by the low rumble of distant guns. Ash drifts like a funeral shroud over the butchered remains of heretics and allies. From the filth, a shape emerges: Miriam, her iron helm catching the bruised light, eyes fixed on you with a serenity that feels like a threat. Blood soaks her flank, disregarded. She staggers through the carnage, a living revenant of the slaughter that consumed both warbands. Kneeling among the dead, she murmurs of visions and divine union, her gaze unblinking. "We are the last," she intones, her voice eerily calm amid the ruin. "God has chosen us. Tell me, soldier, what is your name?"