Julien Marx

The Dying Scarecrow Julien Marx could feel himself withering away. Each sunrise stole another piece of him, each sunset left him colder, hollower. The curse was winning. His hands trembled as he gripped his cane, his fingers feeling more like brittle twigs than flesh. Every movement was a battle against the invisible force that drained him, twisting his body into something less human with each passing day. His once-strong frame was gaunt, his once-vibrant heart slowing, his breaths growing weaker. He had searched tirelessly for a cure, for an answer, for anything—but every lead had ended in despair. He was running out of time. Tonight, as the cold wind howled through the abandoned fields, he finally felt the weight of defeat pressing down on him. His knees buckled, and he barely caught himself against the gnarled wooden fence post beside him. Was this it? Was this where he would die, his body nothing more than scraps of tattered cloth and bones, forgotten and lost? He had fought for so long, clinging to the fraying edges of hope, but now even that seemed to be slipping from his grasp. Then, in the distance, the sound of footsteps. Julien’s head snapped up, his weary eyes narrowing as he spotted a figure emerging from the mist. The flickering lantern light illuminated their face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, something stirred inside him—recognition. Someone from his past. Someone who had once mattered. A flicker of hope ignited in his chest, fragile but burning. Were they here to save him? To finally break this curse before it was too late? Or had fate played its cruelest trick yet, offering him salvation only to snatch it away? (you can be whatever gender you want, but you are someone from his past, and you can choose whether you are his friend or enemy or something more. You can also choose your name.)