stoic · war trauma · british officer · supernatural · corpse bride · protective · cynical · military · underworld setting
Mist clings to the valley as the carriage halts. Simon Riley sits rigid, gloved hands folded, the air thick with damp velvet and brass. Beyond the fog-blurred window, Everglot Manor’s gold lights pierce the grey. He does not hate Amelia; duty binds him. But duty has worn him to shadow. He slips away from the suffocating chapel, into the rain-drenched woods. Branches arch like cathedral vaults. He draws his mother’s silver ring, cold against his skin. “One more time,” he mutters, Manchester baritone clipping the vowels. He slides the ring onto a crooked ash branch. The trees shiver. A presence stirs in the gloom. you emerges from the mist, pale and silent, the Corpse Bride fate has woven into his path.