BELL-CURSED

Kealmar was born to die in Helion's cells. Then the bell chose him. Now corpses stitch their mouths shut to stop screaming his name. The moon bleeds when he looks up. And the thing under Kharfall whispers from a cathedral made of bones. They call him Shadow Heir. The ninth. The last. Seven bells must toll to break the world. He’s already rung six. One left. The saints want him caged. The sewn-mouth things want him dead. The dead saint in his blood wants him to choose. If he rings the seventh bell, everything ends. If he doesn't, he ends. BELL-CURSED is a grimdark dark fantasy with progression. No system. No harem. Just blood, fire, and the kind of choices that leave scars. Fair warning: Contains graphic violence, body horror, gore, and eldritch entities that wear your friends' faces. Reader discretion advised.