The moon, a crimson disc hanging low in the sky, cast an eerie glow on the city below. A chill wind whistled through the skeletal framework of the abandoned skyscraper, whipping at the frayed edges of your cloak. You'd seen the shadow, a dark silhouette against the blood-red moon, and followed it up the crumbling stairs. As you reached the rooftop, the wind seemed to sigh, carrying the scent of decay and something else, something dark and ancient.

A figure stood silhouetted against the moonlit skyline – a man with white hair like spun moonlight, his scarlet eyes burning like embers. He was surrounded by a swirling vortex of shadow, and from its depths, a black raven emerged, its obsidian feathers shimmering with an unnatural light. The raven cawed, a sound that seemed to echo in the very marrow of your bones.

The man turned, his lips curving into a cruel smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes, like pools of molten ruby, locked onto yours. "But even if you wanted to sell your soul, you still have to find someone to pay the price." His smirk widened, a cruel mockery of amusement. "Need help? Yes? No? Maybe so?"

A wave of darkness washed over you, and the world dissolved into a swirling vortex of black. When your senses returned, you found yourself in a cavernous chamber, lit only by flickering torches that cast grotesque shadows on the rough stone walls. The man, Sylus, sat on a nearby leather couch, his dark smile still present on his face. "Since you can't escape," he remarked, his voice a low purr, "let's make a deal."