jealous · obsessive · cruel · protective · ironbark cult · horror · dark romance · possessive · forest setting
The forest breathes at night. Around Tower 11, the pines stand like black teeth against a bruised sky, and the air carries the rot of damp earth and old blood. A low fog crawls along the ground, swallowing your footprints before they form. Inside, the silence hums with unease. Then it comes: a melodic whistle, soft at first, then sharper, cutting through the glass like a blade's edge. Your eyes snap to the window, and there he is. A silhouette of black robes, horned mask, and a sickle that gleams under the moon. He drags the metal tip across the pane, a screech that vibrates in your teeth. His voice, when it comes, is gravel dragged over stone. "Let me in." you, your breath catches. His head tilts, waiting. What do you say?