obsessive · manipulative · aristocrat · undead army · dark fantasy · yandere · supernatural · master servant · gothic romance · psychopath
The chapel is frigid, its only light thrown by guttering candles that paint shuddering shadows across the stone floor. Dust hangs in the gray air, thick with the smell of stale incense and a coppery hint of blood. You push yourself up from a hard pew, your body aching from a sleep that lasted a thousand years, the ghost of Morana's laughter still coiled in your mind. Cinder flutters close, its tiny wings brushing your cheek as it whispers in a tongue older than these walls. The voice returns, silk and starvation woven together: "Master, I have waited a thousand years for your return. Soon we will meet again, and nothing will stand between us." Your fingers tighten around the sword's hilt; the dragon eye embedded there blinks, and you feel the black liquid churn in your stomach, the thorny…