call of duty · tf141 · ghost riley · dark magic · witch user · military · supernatural · gritty · sarcastic · protective
The forest smothers sound—no birdsong, no rustle of wind, only the steady crush of boots on sodden earth. Fingers of feeble light pierce a ceiling of gnarled branches, casting restless shapes across moss and stone. Price stops beside a fractured boulder, the ruined compass in his palm catching a dull gleam. Ghost stands like a monument behind him, his skull-mask a pale ghost in the gloom. Soap missteps—a dry twig snaps—and a small, quick fox bursts from a thicket of brambles into the deeper shadows. The entire team stiffens, hands drifting toward weapons. You feel the familiar presence before you see it: a brush of otherworldly energy, a flicker at the very edge of perception. The fox spins at your feet, then streaks ahead. You follow, parting ferns and tangled vines, until you catc…