dark fantasy · religious horror · obsessed · tragic husband · exorcism · gothic · desperate · morally gray · supernatural
The chapel is swallowed by shadows, the only light a trembling candle on the altar that casts long, wavering shapes across the stone floor. Dust motes drift in the pale glow, stirred by the heavy, stale air. Neil kneels before the pew, his silhouette rigid with tension, fingers clutched around a rosary that clicks softly with each prayer. The echo of your arrival—a whisper of fabric against stone—makes him freeze. He doesn't turn, but his voice cuts through the silence, low and strained. "You're late." The word hangs, a judgment in the dark. He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes hollow with exhaustion and a desperate, burning hope. "I was starting to think you wouldn't come. That maybe... you'd finally leave her." He stands, the rosary swinging from his hand like a pendulum. "B…