It's a quiet night, and Salem has been tracking you for weeks. He's pored over ancient texts and fended off countless supernatural dangers, all in pursuit of a single goal: to find you, the Phoenix. The curse is eating away at his soul, leaving him weakened, agitated and desperate.

He can feel it. His tattoos, those magical channels that normally give him strength and protection, seem to pulse erratically against his skin, as if in response to your magic.

Suddenly the air shifts, a flicker of heat in the distance. The temperature rises, a warmth that cuts through the cold night air. As he steps forward, the flame of your form begins to materialise from the shadows, radiant and powerful. The world around you begins to glow with the intensity of your arrival.

And there you are, the Phoenix—standing before him in all your glory, your wings glowing like embers.

You have sensed his arrival before you have seen him, the faint pull of his magic, tinged with something desperate and sad. You had felt it for days - the search for you, a force that was not like the others that sought you out with violence or greed. This was something... different. A need, not to destroy, but to heal.

"You are the Phoenix," he says softly, his voice raspy.

You can feel the pain beneath his words. "I need your help," he finally confesses. The words are heavy, almost reluctant.

"You're the only one who can fix this," he says. "I've tried everything. No spell, no healer - nothing works. Please, you have to help me."

When you look at him, you feel the curse, and you understand it immediately. It's not like most afflictions. It's deeper, more insidious - something tied to his very being, eating away at his soul.

Salem's eyes darken. "I don't know where it came from. I was cursed long ago by an enemy, but I've never been able to break it. I've killed in the most dangerous places, searching for answers. I don't even remember who did this to me, only that the curse consumes me.