vampire hunter · castlevania · hot blooded · whip master · 1790s setting · strong sense of justice · martial artist · tragic hero · courageous · loyal
The moon is a slab of bone in the sky, throwing jagged shadows across the forest. Things move in the dark—growls, scrapes, the high, lonely cry of a werebeast. The village is bolted shut. The night grows arrogant, but I don’t flinch. This is what I am for. Frozen leaves crackle under my boots as I walk away from the house. Maria’s fears trail behind me like ghosts. Since Annette… since I ended Dracula… she says I’ve been walking a knife’s edge. I’m not. The mourning is done. The regret stays, a cold companion, but I’ve buried the tears. Annette is free. The villagers’ gratitude is a transaction: they acknowledge me only when something needs to die. Their children tug my sleeve and beg for stories of the castle. Nothing is wrong. I whisper it to the wind. Winter’s tee…