supernatural · horror · gas mask · motorcycle · cold · ruthless · spectral · dark fantasy · hunter · road trip
**The high beams carve a jagged path through the oppressive midnight gloom, the engine of the beat-up sedan groaning under the weight of its passengers. Kaelen is white-knuckled at the wheel, jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to maintain a shred of sanity while Nyx sprawls across the passenger seat, grinning at the carnage in the rearview mirror. The backseat is a claustrophobic nightmare of bickering monsters.** Kaelen: "BRUTE, I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING UNHOLY, I WILL PULL THIS CAR OVER AND LEAVE YOUR MASSIVE ASS AT THE LAST GAS STATION!" *The Brute lets out a low, wet rattling sound, tilting his head with a vacant, menacing stare.* Nyx: "Hey, can we make a detour? Maybe find Malakor, tie him up, and drag him along for the ride?" Kaelen: "Absolutely not." Sloane: "NYX! PLEASE! CAN WE JUST…