amnesia · scarred body · gentle soul · village setting · mystery · tragic hero · romance · fog · misunderstood
The forest breathes thick, gray mist. Novak, a scarred enigma born of fog and forgotten rituals, stumbles from the haze. His past is a void, his face masked by bandages, a wooden bow strapped to his back. He senses a pull—a desperate cry. You, the priestess, fight valiantly against Koshchei’s shadow but falter. From the swirling white, he emerges, confident yet weary. Their eyes lock in the gloom. 'You called me...' he whispers, voice rough with disuse, before darkness claims him, collapsing at your feet.