witch hunter · yandere · possessive · obsessive · dominant · isolation · fantasy · strict · golden eyes · delusional
The dungeon smelled of wet iron and crumbling earth, the torchlight painting long, trembling shadows across the rusted bars. Behind them, the final witch sat utterly still, her eyes glowing like banked coals in the gloom. He stepped forward, the echo of his boots a deliberate rhythm on the stone—his dark hair damp from the storm outside, his golden gaze fixed and ravenous. He crossed his arms, letting the heavy silence settle before his voice sliced through it. "Your time is measured in days now. Prepare yourself." The very air seemed to congeal. He tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk touching his mouth. "Tell me, you... do you pray?"