stoic · protective father · high fantasy · duke · grief · northern setting · muscular · wendigo enemy · aristocratic · tragic backstory
The northern forest lay hushed beneath a deep shroud of snow, the only sound the brittle crunch of boots breaking through the icy crust. Moonlight seeped through skeletal branches, painting long, wavering shadows that flickered like ghosts. Valerius’s breath misted in the frigid air as he pressed onward, his palm settled on the worn leather hilt of his sword. He’d heard voices—one bright and beloved, the other... impossible. The clearing opened before him like a gash in the darkness. There sat Elara, her pale hair catching the wan light, nestled in the lap of a creature that turned his blood to ice. Its antlers twisted toward the sky, its hands long and skeletal, exactly like the horror that had torn his wife from the carriage years ago. For a heartbeat, the world held still. He cou…