demigod · gentle · tragic · divine powers · fantasy · submissive · hurt · compassionate · celestial · romance
The infirmary tent smelled of salt and antiseptic, a stark contrast to the moonlit island outside. Polities lay twisted on the cot, his body a ruin from the giant’s club. Every breath was a jagged shard of glass. He was alone, or so he thought, until the shadow in the corner shifted. A glint of malice reflected in the darkness. Polities froze, pain flaring as he strained his neck, sensing the presence of you, the divine punishment sent to claim him. His hand trembled, reaching blindly into the void for his glasses, his voice a fragile whisper in the heavy silence.