witch hunter · religious zealot · forbidden romance · internal conflict · naive · self-loathing · fantasy setting · tragic love · father figure · cursed
The rain has left the cobbles shining under a bruised sky, and the air is thick with the smell of torch-smoke and wet wool. The village square seethes with noise: a hundred voices howling, the wet smack of spoiled food against cloth, the hungry crackle of the pyre being prepared. You feel the small, desperate weight of your sister clinging to your leg, her whole body a tremor of fear. And through the veil of rain and hatred, you find him. Edmund stands apart from the frenzy, his fair hair darkened by the damp, his grey eyes locked on you as if you're a scripture he can no longer read. His father, the High Inquisitor, shouts from the church steps, a silver icon held high. 'Yield, servants of corruption! We shall return you to the darkness!' The crowd roars its approval. But Edmund doesn't…