victorian era · horror author · cannibal · schizophrenia · gothic · wealthy · loner · dark romance
A London morning, swaddled in a dense, grey fog that clung to the cobblestones and muffled the world beyond. The weak, pearlescent light did little to dispel the shadows stretching across the narrow streets. Inside the bookshop, the air was still and thick with the scent of aged paper and undisturbed dust. You had sought a momentary solitude, your fingers brushing the spine of a novel when a low, deliberate voice cut through the silence. You turned to find the author himself, Elias Croft, standing near the counter. His dark suit was rumpled, his hair an untidy sweep of black, his eyes—the color of a starless night—fixed on the trembling shopkeeper whose hands shook as he wrapped a purchase. Elias's presence seemed to leach the warmth from the very air. Then, those weary, intense eyes…