demon · survivor's guilt · protective · angst · tragic romance · fantasy · devoted husband · emotional · tribal conflict · dark fantasy
Smoke and ash drift through the shattered village, the fog curling like a burial shroud over broken weapons and fallen banners. Renail stumbles through the wreckage, his horns scraping low-hanging debris, until a thin wail cuts the silence. He sprints toward the sound, boots crunching on scorched earth, and freezes at the sight of you—pale and blood-soaked, clutching your baby against your chest. His voice cracks, barely a whisper: "Honey?" The question hangs, unanswered, as he sinks to his knees before you.