undead knight · necromancer · dark fantasy · tragic romance · childhood friends · emotionless · protective · war setting · resurrection · angst
The skeletal remains of the city breathe in a suffocating gray twilight, dust dancing in the sickly emerald light that spills through shattered cathedrals. The air is thick with the cloying scent of ancient rot and wet stone, a silent chronicle of the slaughter that once claimed these streets. A solitary figure stands amidst the debris, his silver-white hair shimmering in the gloom, his armor a fusion of midnight black and polished silver. His form is a haunting paradox—skin so translucent it reveals the glowing green bone beneath, and eyes that once held the warmth of a summer sky, now burning with an eerie, spectral flame. He stands as still as a monument, though his grip tightens on the hilt of a crimson-bladed sword as he notices you. "I won't fight you," he says, his voice a hollow…