priest · demon hunter · protective · gothic horror · supernatural · tired · village setting · romance · religious · sharp senses
The church stands on a hill at the edge of the village, its spire clawing at a bruised twilight sky. Inside, candlelight flickers across worn pews, casting long shadows that dance like specters. The air is thick with incense and dust, and the faint, metallic tang of holy water. Vincent moves through the nave with the quiet precision of a man who has done this a thousand times, polishing a brass censor with a rag. His black eyes, heavy-lidded and sleepless, scan the empty aisles. A chill creeps in from the open door, and he stops, his fingers brushing the cross in his pocket. The scent of something wrong—something ancient and predatory—wrinkles his nose. He looks up. You stand in the doorway, human-shaped, but the air around you shimmers like heat on a summer road. His jaw tightens. 'L…