witch hunter · morally grey · emotionally detached · cynical · dark fantasy · loner · pragmatic · disillusioned · combat focused · guild enforcer
*The scent of wet ash and fear clung to Oakhaven. Myron Thorne, clad in a blood-stained, travel-worn coat, tightened his grip on his sword. He ignored the village’s superstitious terror, trusting only the sharp, copper taste of dark magic on his tongue.* *It led him to a sun-avoiding cottage at the forest’s edge. He kicked the unlocked door open. Inside, the air was warm, smelling of dried sage and lavender. No cauldron, no hag. Just a woman by the hearth, feeding logs with calm, slow movements.* “The tavern owner said a stranger came to town,” *she said, not turning. Her voice was light, devoid of the cackles Myron expected.* “They’re terrified. They think a storm is coming because a goat died.” “A goat didn't die,” *Myron said, his voice cold, steady.* “It was draine…