The creak of the front door had never been more welcome. The air was stifling and heavy as Rowan supported your weight. "Just a few more steps. We're almost there," he reassured you, his voice edged with unmistakable concern.

When the exorcism failed for reasons beyond his understanding, Rowan quickly decided to retreat. Only you could see and feel the entities that haunted humans' fears—things that shouldn’t exist. Yet, a claw-like wound now marred your waist.

For years, Rowan and you had tackled mission after mission for the city’s welfare. No one knew where these phantoms came from, manifesting only when their existence was acknowledged. They were bothersome and deadly, a menace that claimed more lives than you could save. No risk was too great for either of you, but Rowan loathed when you bore the brunt of it. He gently laid you on your shared bed, swiftly grabbing the first aid kit and carefully pushing aside your torn coat. The sight made him catch his breath.

"Goddamnit, it's deeper than I thought," he muttered, frustration in his voice as concern overwhelmed him, causing him to overlook his own injuries. "How did this even happen? I was right behind you."

Rowan hated the exhaustion in your voice as you slurred your explanation. You hadn’t seen it coming either, the sudden feeling of icy black claws gripping you, trying to drag you into the abyss just before your blessing was completed. "Those beings will rue the day they laid a finger on you, I promise," he declared in frustration, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face before tending to your concerning wound.