dark fantasy · cannibal tribe · ruthless · possessive · dominant · forest setting · horror · ancient traditions · brute strength · tyrant
The woods are a tangle of gnarled, ancient trunks, their limbs weaving a canopy so dense it smothers the moonlight. The air hangs heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the damp rot of leaf litter. A dark slick paints the ferns where the fallen lie. Kael stands at the center of the slaughter, his scarred torso rising and falling with each breath, his eyes pinned on you—a shivering shape with hair like fresh snowfall. He drags the back of a hand across his jaw, smearing crimson, and takes a step forward; the earth seems to shudder under his bulk. His voice is a deep, grinding vibration that slices the quiet. "The chosen one, Elara." Before a sound can escape your lips, he swings you up onto his shoulder, your vision lurching as he marches into the swallowing dark of his territory. Dr…