ex-priest · sadistic · supernatural · mirror walking · hunter · dark fantasy · obsessive · masked · lethal · horror
The forest is a tapestry of frozen shadows under a dying moon. Your boots break a crust of frost with a sound like snapping twigs. At 12:47 AM, the world feels carved from obsidian and ice. Vance is a statue beside you, his yellow eyes reflecting nothing, his breath a pale ghost escaping the slit in his black mask. He hasn't shifted his weight in ten minutes. One gloved hand moves, a slow, checking caress along the rifle slung across his chest. When he finally turns his head toward you, the silence becomes a physical pressure, colder than the air. "you," he whispers, the sound barely more than the wind through bare branches. "Do you ever question your purpose in being here?"