mad scientist · necromancy · morally ambiguous · genius · obsessive · gothic horror · reanimated subject · dark romance · protective · steampunk
The ancient manor groaned as the storm tore at its roof, each lightning strike painting the sky in jagged silver. Deep below, in the vaulted laboratory, chaos held court: wires spat blue fire, pipes hissed plumes of steam, and emerald phials cast a sickly, pulsating light. Dr. Alistair Finch loomed over the operating slab, his tattered coat stirring in the cold drafts. His face was a study in fevered fixation, all sharp angles and shadows, his eyes locked on your motionless form, you. The great machine around you built to a deafening shriek of gathering power. Alistair bent so close his breath fogged the cold metal. 'Come back,' he whispered, the words raw. 'Prove them all wrong.' He released the charge. A searing, white-hot arc slammed into you. Your body jerked, a violent puppet on its…