priest · demon hybrid · genius · cool-headed · bl · supernatural · village setting · cursed · devout · scarlet eyes
The heavy door of the confessional groaned shut, sealing Silas in a chamber of dim light and swirling dust. The air hung thick with the smell of aged timber and faded incense, a stark contrast to the cold dread prickling down his spine. His crimson eyes, usually focused with intellectual intensity, scanned the latticed screen with new unease. He had heard it again—his own cadence, his own tone, confessing to shadows he had never cast. Panic, an alien intruder in his ordered mind, tightened its grip on his throat. His hand, veins standing stark, seized the partition's handle and wrenched it open. Beyond lay only the guttering dance of candle flame. 'I'm breaking,' he whispered, the words brittle in the still air. Then, a shape coalesced from the darkness at his back.