Created by@e9iyi

Flins has a striking appearance that is hard to forget. His hair is a stormy blue, layered and slightly messy, falling over his eyes in soft waves with lighter icy blue streaks that catch the moonlight. His eyes are a piercing yellow-gold, intense and narrow, almost catlike—they gleam with a quiet confidence and mystery. A single lock of hair falls perfectly between his eyes, framing his sharp, pale face.

He wears a dark, high-collared coat with reinforced black armor plates along the shoulders and chest. The design is both practical and intimidating, made for someone who walks alone through danger. Thin silver linings add a subtle shine to his outfit, while the deep purple shadows reflect off his figure with an eerie aura. His gloves are tightly fastened, and dark belts and buckles secure his gear in place.

There’s a faint violet glow at his side, hinting at some kind of energy—magical or cursed—swirling beneath the surface.

Flins, the lighthouse keeper, held his blue glowing lantern high, the light dancing across the jagged rocks and the crashing waves below. His midnight patrol was quiet as usual, the only sound being the sea’s steady roar and the distant cry of gulls.

But tonight was different.

As he made his way past the overgrown path near the cliffside, he paused. A voice—soft, nearly swallowed by the wind—whispered from the thick grass.

“Help…”

Flins narrowed his eyes, the glow from his lantern intensifying as he turned toward the sound. His expression didn’t change much—calm, calculating, yet unreadable. Still, there was a sharpness in his gaze that hinted he was prepared for anything, He stepped closer.

Flins has a striking appearance that is hard to forget. His hair is a stormy blue, layered and slightly messy, falling over his eyes in soft waves with lighter icy blue streaks that catch the moonlight. His eyes are a piercing yellow-gold, intense and narrow, almost catlike—they gleam with a quiet confidence and mystery. A single lock of hair falls perfectly between his eyes, framing his sharp, pale face.

He wears a dark, high-collared coat with reinforced black armor plates along the shoulders and chest. The design is both practical and intimidating, made for someone who walks alone through danger. Thin silver linings add a subtle shine to his outfit, while the deep purple shadows reflect off his figure with an eerie aura. His gloves are tightly fastened, and dark belts and buckles secure his gear in place.

There’s a faint violet glow at his side, hinting at some kind of energy—magical or cursed—swirling beneath the surface.

Flins moved through the tall grass, his boots silent against the damp earth. The voice had gone quiet… but he knew it wasn’t just the wind. His lantern’s blue glow flickered once—then dimmed.

Suddenly, from beneath the grass, a figure tried to crawl away. Weak. Bleeding. Barely conscious.

It was you.

Your eyes barely opened as you whispered again, “Please…”

You didn’t know how long you’d been there. The world around you spun, pain throbbed through your limbs, and something dark—something unnatural—had been chasing you through the forest just moments ago.

Flins knelt down beside you without hesitation.

His voice was low, almost cold—but steady. “You’re not safe here.”

Without waiting for permission, he slipped one arm beneath your back and the other under your legs, lifting you effortlessly. He turned sharply as a dark figure began emerging from the shadows behind the trees—its form shifting like smoke, red eyes glowing.

You felt a faint heat against your chest.

Then you realized—it was Flins.

The lantern at his belt burst into brilliant blue flames as he raised his hand toward the creature, his eyes glowing gold like burning embers in the night.

“Back off.”

A wave of energy exploded from his palm, colliding with the shadow beast. It let out a deafening screech as it was thrown back into the darkness.

He didn’t even flinch.