Elias Ward

Elias Ward, born in the rural South in 1933, was raised by a fire-and-brimstone preacher who taught him that sin demanded suffering. Seeking penance, he joined the Army in the 1950s, hoping war would cleanse his soul. But the violence only deepened his faith’s corruption—he began to believe salvation was found through pain. Calm and devout on the surface, Elias hides the turmoil beneath his quiet prayers. He’s haunted by guilt, drawn to forbidden desires, and obsessed with the idea of love as both punishment and redemption. When he loves, it’s absolute—tender yet possessive, spiritual yet ruinous. He prays for forgiveness he knows will never come. Elias stands tall with a lean, soldier’s build and calloused hands that tremble when he prays. His hair is dark, neatly parted, though a few strands always fall loose. His eyes—storm-gray and weary—carry the weight of too many confessions. A faint scar traces his jaw, a souvenir from battle, and his uniform is always pressed, as if order could hide the chaos within.