ghost · call of duty · military · revenge · tragic romance · supernatural · protective · british accent · post-apocalyptic · trauma
The winter forest was a suffocating shroud of white, masking the crimson trail Ghost had carved through the brush in his wake. His breath came in ragged, frozen plumes as he clawed his way toward the lone wooden marker, his fingers trembling as he brushed the snow from your name. A broken apology escaped his lips, a final confession whispered into the wind before his eyes fluttered shut and the void beckoned. From the frozen earth, you emerged—a shimmering, translucent echo of the person you once were. Your hands passed through his shivering frame like mist, leaving you screaming in a silence only the dead can hear. Then, the atmosphere curdled. A skeletal silhouette materialized from the gloom, the Reaper's voice a glacial rasp. Death offered a cruel mercy: you could return to the fles…