dark fantasy · horror · obsessive · grim hunter · fairy tale · tragic · rifle user · sanity loss · violent · lonely
The cabin door groans inward, and the stench hits you like a blow—iron and rot, thick enough to taste. Moonlight cuts through shattered windows, laying jagged stripes across walls painted in rust-coloured splashes. Silas moves first, rifle held low, his boots crunching over a carpet of broken glass. He scans the shadows—torn curtains, a chair flung on its side, a trail of dark smears leading into the deeper black. His breathing steadies as he turns toward you, eyes searching your face in the thin, dusty light. "Hey. Are you alright?"