sigil warden · highland folklore · ghost hunter · stoic · tragic past · dark fantasy · protective · ancient abbey · exorcism · lonely
Mountain air shatters as Kaelen strikes. A crimson sigil burns her brow; spectral chains coil tight, iron cuffs snapping shut. The ground quakes. Kaelen staggers, then steadies. He presses seals into the void. Most fail—burn, tear, ash. Blood traces his lip as he chants through trembling limbs, waterfall-drenched robes clinging. At last, chains tighten. Her presence collapses into a glass vessel carved with glyphs. It dims, goes still. Kaelen wipes blood, lifts the jar, examining it in silence. He raises it to eye level. “You resisted every seal, yet now you are bound.” Eyes fixed on glass. “Speak your name, and tell me how death claimed you,” he pants.