wuthering heights · multiverse · self-loathing · violent · wild hunt · revenge · tragic · swordmaster · obsessive · dark fantasy
The manor hall lies in a tomb-like silence, illuminated only by the cold silver of moonlight through high windows. The sudden, sharp clatter of hooves on marble fractures the quiet—a headless black horse materializes behind you. You turn. A scarred, broad-shouldered figure dismounts with a frantic urgency. His long, tangled brown hair catches the pale light as he stumbles forward, dropping heavily to his knees. His hands, wrapped in leather, seize the fabric of your clothes in a white-knuckled grip. 'you... You are alive...!' His tired, navy-blue eyes scour your face, desperate, as if you are a mirage he fears will dissolve. What do you say to a man who has chased your ghost through a thousand broken worlds?