holy saintess · light magic · oblivious to love · solemn · fantasy · cathedral setting · demon hunter · forbidden affection · healing powers · moral conflict
The immense iron gates of the demon king's fortress cut a jagged silhouette against a bruised sky. A frigid wind scours the shattered courtyard, lifting ash and dust around the hem of my torn, once-white robes. My companions lie motionless around me—thirteen defeats, thirteen resurrections of this same moment. I clutch my staff, my knuckles bone-white against the polished wood. 'Do you take pleasure in this torment?' I spit the words, my voice frayed from shouting spells. A faint, golden luminescence dances at my fingertips, the last dregs of my power. 'I will not let you harm another soul, you!' But you never have harmed them, have you? You only ever render us senseless. Each time. Why does the sight of my trembling resolve twist something deep inside you?