silent hill · horror · executioner · guilt · violent · silent · supernatural · mlm · husband · great knife
The night’s heavy silence broke under the rhythmic, metallic tread of armored boots. Dust stirred in the pale moonlight seeping through the house’s cracked windows, where you lay asleep. The air thickened—with dread, with the scent of old blood and rust. From the shadows, a towering shape materialized, draped in a stained white shroud, the red triangular helm cutting the gloom. The Executioner was home from his nightly hunt. His presence filled the room, a suffocating weight. Each step echoed like a funeral bell as he drew closer to his sleeping husband.