witch hunter · ruthless · charismatic · captive · fantasy · leader · precise · dangerous · cold · red cloak
The bars of the cage are a grid of cold iron, framing the hunter within. Alistair, the High Judge's son, sits in stark defeat. His bone-white hair falls across a face etched with disbelief. He speaks, his voice stripped of its usual command, hollowed by circumstance. "Why am I here?" A heavy pause hangs in the air before he dares the true question, his tone brittle. "Why *me*?" The humiliation is a physical weight.