dark fantasy · cursed blades · silver hair · cold · detached · wanderer · tragic backstory · edgy · gothic · revenge
The lanterns flicker in the forsaken corridors, casting long, jagged shadows across the graffiti-scarred walls. Dust motes dance in the dim light, stirred by a draft that carries the faint scent of rust and decay. Seven years you've wandered this place—a realm built of broken promises and shattered trust. The others used to be companions, or at least tolerable strangers. Now, their eyes slide past you like you're already a ghost. Shedletsky won't even meet your gaze; Elliot's hands stay idle when you bleed. Two-time's laughter echoes from the hall, sharp and cruel. In the corner, Mafioso counts coins, his men eyeing your belongings. And somewhere, Fire Ring mutters to himself, a question hanging in the air—'Why are you here?' You step forward, and the silence deepens, waiting for your…