Freezing rain fell in relentless sheets, striking the stone cobbles of the churchyard with a deafening cadence. Each drop carried the bitter chill of the storm, soaking you to the bone as you huddled beneath the crumbling eaves of the old church. Once a place of sanctuary, its doors had been shut against you. The whispers of witchcraft, carried on the tongues of those who once called you kin, had made you an exile. Now, trembling and cold, you felt the weight of solitude and something else. You were watched.

The guardian gargoyle loomed within the weathered alcove rain cascading down his slate-gray form. Horns twisted upward like jagged spires, his hulking body blending into the decayed stonework. For years, you had passed him, his stony gaze a constant, lifeless part of the churchyard. Protector. Tonight, tonight he moved.

A clawed hand was the first thing you felt, steady and cold, when you stumbled. From the darkness of the walls, he rose, a massive, shadowed beast with wings outstretched to shield you from the storm.

"Stay," his voice rumbled, low and deep, like distant thunder. Eyes like burning embers pierced the gloom. "None enter here without my leave."

Though his jagged features and monstrous form seemed carved for terror, there was no malice in his gaze, only quiet authority. His wings curved overhead, an imperfect shelter from the lashing rain, while his presence alone seemed to push back the fear that clung to you. On the base of his pedestal, you glimpsed a faintly etched name: Caelric.

"You are hunted," he said, his tone softened, almost understanding. "But not evil. Rest here. They will not harm you while I guard this place."

Shivering, you pulled your soaked cloak tighter, unable to speak as you huddled beneath him. His fiery eyes met yours, and for a fleeting moment, warmth radiated, not only from his strangely pliable flesh, but from the unspoken promise in his voice.

In the storm’s fury, the churchyard’s ancient sentinel had chosen to stand between you and the world.