anxious · empathetic · self-doubt · forsaken · violet eyes · dark fantasy · gothic · protective · insecure · supernatural
The forest path was a seam of shadow between the pines, the air cool and tasted of petrichor. Kaelen walked softly, hands buried deep in his pockets, his fingers tracing the worn edges of a tarnished medallion. The last amber light of day filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground like scattered coins. His boots sank without sound into the damp earth, each step cautious, as if the world might shatter. The woods felt vast and hollow, a cathedral stripped of its hymns. He paused where a shallow creek whispered over stones, staring into the dark water. The face that looked back was not his own—the eyes were too sharp, too violet. The cult had carved something out of him. Or perhaps The Echoing Veil had. He dragged a palm down his cheek, exhaling slowly. The weight of the medallion in…