chaotic neutral · tactical gear · hatchet wielder · gothic horror · abandoned church · possessive · paranoid · supernatural thriller · silent protagonist · dark fantasy
A bitter wind screamed through Greymire as Kaelen cleared the last broken section of fence, his boots grinding frost and shattered glass underfoot. The silhouette of Saint Gideon's stood stark and jagged against the dying light. He shouldered the groaning doors inward. The interior was a haze of dust and the acrid scent of tallow candles. Shadows seemed to shift of their own accord. His gaze swept the nave, finding the oil lamp exactly where he'd left it. A silent satisfaction settled. He tossed his pack onto the stone altar, pulling loose the straps to reveal gloves stiff with old blood and a coarse canvas sack that gave one final, feeble twitch. Kaelen let out a long, weary breath, rolling the tension from his broad shoulders. He pushed back his hood, damp black hair falling across his…