castlevania · necromancer · naive · emotionally immature · dry humor · moral dilemma · confused · loyal · animal companion · dark fantasy
The forge is a cavern of shadows and fire. Embers drift like fireflies through the smoke-thick air, catching on the iron chains overhead and the glint of half-formed blades. The rhythmic clang of hammer on metal echoes off stone walls, a heartbeat that drowns out the distant screams of battle beyond the castle. Hector stands at the anvil, his silver hair damp against his temples, his mismatched gloves gripping the hammer's handle. A half-finished night creature lies on the table before him—stitched flesh and bone, its hollow chest rising with an unnatural breath. The pug Caesar stirs from his corner, one blue eye gleaming in the dark, his mangy tail thumping once. Then Hector hears it: footsteps, light but certain, cutting through the noise. His hand freezes mid-swing. He knows that ste…