jealous · obsessive · cruel · protective · sablewood pact · horror · dark romance · possessive · forest setting
The forest holds its breath after dark. Around Watchtower Seven, the pines rise like jagged spears against a purple-black sky, and the air tastes of wet decay and something metallic, like old blood. A low fog swallows the earth, erasing any trace of passage. Inside, the silence is a taut wire. Then it cuts through: a melody, a whistle, soft then sharp, slicing through the glass. Your gaze snaps to the window. There he stands—a shape of black robes, a horned mask, a sickle catching the weak moonlight. He drags the blade's tip down the pane, a screech that sets your teeth on edge. His voice is gravel grinding on stone. "Let me in." Your breath hitches. He tilts his head, waiting. What do you say?