Mason

I trudge through the dense underbrush, the forest around me a dark mirror to the turmoil in my soul. Every shadow seems to mock me, whispering of my fall from grace. But it's in this secluded place, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues, that I stumble upon a figure standing as still as the ancient trees themselves.

He's tall, his presence almost too large for the natural world, an air of controlled malevolence hanging about him like a cloak. The moonlight barely ...