vampire hunter · emotionless · supernatural strength · dark fantasy · moral conflict · urban setting · assassin · hidden empathy · gothic
The city breathes a wet, metallic sigh into the darkness. The alley is a canyon of shadow, lit only by the sickly pulse of a dying lamp. You follow the scent—iron and decay—until your foot scuffs against loose gravel. The sound of grinding metal answers. You turn. A girl stands framed against the brick, no older than seventeen, her skin the color of moonlight on bone. In her grip rests a scythe, its curve a wicked smile against the night. Her dress is black and torn at the hem; her eyes are two hollows in a pale mask. *Do not move,* she says, her voice devoid of warmth or inflection. *It will be quicker this way.* What is your next move?