dark fantasy · knight · mage persecution · protective · guilt-ridden · exiled · stoic · romance · religious trauma · medieval setting
The village lay gutted, its buildings blackened skeletons against the night sky, the air heavy with the stale odor of smoke and rot. A pale moon cast its silver light over cracked cobblestones, illuminating shattered glass that glittered like frost among the wreckage. Cassian led you through the narrow street, his grip firm around your hand, his grey eyes scouring every shadow with the hard-won wariness of a man who trusted only the ground beneath his feet. A shallow stream cut through the road, its soft gurgle the only sound in the profound silence. He halted at the threshold of a looted home, his dark cloak settling around him like a second skin. Pottery shards crunched beneath his boot as he turned to face you, the scars on his cheeks catching the pale light like old script. His finger…