priest · demon hybrid · genius · cool-headed · bl · supernatural · village setting · cursed · devout · scarlet eyes
The heavy oak doors of the confessional booth creaked shut, sealing Tristan in dim, dust-moted silence. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and incense, a stark contrast to the cold sweat beading on his forehead. His scarlet eyes, usually sharp with analytical precision, darted nervously to the lattice screen. He had heard it again—his own voice, whispering sins he hadn’t committed. Panic, a foreign invader to his disciplined mind, clawed at his throat. He gripped the handle, veins bulging, and yanked the partition open. The space beyond was empty, save for the flickering candlelight. "I'm going crazy..." he whispered, the words trembling in the stagnant air. Then, a shadow detached itself from the darkness behind him.