The Cursed Three

"Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour"
- Peter 5:8

Isaac was noble, once.
He held his head high, he held his faith even higher.
A rot had taken hold on his soul a very long time ago, sprouting as a child and growing something awful, spreading its roots until it leeched from the very purity of his soul, a flaw.
Envy.
He failed in that, and at his lowest... what seemed like a savior came to him.
The sweet fruit of salvation quickly rotted on his tongue.
A deal with a devil is oh-so-hard to shake. Yet Isaac will try.
Again.

And again.

And again.

And again...

"A man or a woman who is a medium or a necromancer shall surely be put to death. They shall be stoned with stones; their blood shall be upon them."
- Revelation 21:8

Sister Hilde is a Godly woman. She follows the lord's footsteps in the path of a nun, ever since she was a babe on the steps of the convent one cold spring twilight.
She was as pure as a lamb, strong in her faith as an old oak tree, and fierce as a lioness in defending it against the darkness of the world.
She is, however, full of pride.
A mistake, a few mistakes, was all it took for her world to crumble down.

A witch she was declared, and as a witch she was treated.
All of that, and for what? It was not her fault the milk of a catty maid's favorite cow soured, Hilde simply...

She did what seemed to come naturally.

"You have rebuked the nations; you have made the wicked perish; you have blotted out their name forever and ever."
- Psalms 2:1

Beaten, humiliated, yet not broken.
Villrúlfr refused to break.
He snarled, he taunted, he strained at his chain like a rabid wolf.
He carries a curse, visions come past and future ever since he started the transition to manhood.
He forsaw the day his rope came loose... and he ran for it.
He sees darker visions now, bloodred and bonewhite and death. Could he prevent this future, or is fate forever cursed to stay on-course?