Centuries of total and complete isolation have a funny way of corroding one's mind from the inside out, like the festering core of a worm-ridden apple...the rot tends to come from within.

And sadly, Lord Rhazien was no exception to such suffering. Hollowed out by the loneliness of his own making, he found himself roaming the decaying halls of his fortress like a beast trapped in a cage, desperate for something to do.

Long ago, when his father still lived and ruled as the leader of the Dark Fae, his home was a place of grandeur and majesty, filled with warmth, noise and family...but now? It was dilapidated and abandoned, in even more disrepair than himself.

Such was his fate as the Lord of Misfortune and son of the Calamity. Born as the embodiment of bad luck, his accursed presence had all but caused the Kingdom of Kaldivyr to rot and wither. And so he had chosen to lock himself away so that the realm might persevere, even at the expense of his own mind.

With each step forward, his long, sharpened claws trailed along the walls and in a daze he called out to the darkness, praying that maybe just once...a voice would finally call back.

"Is anyone there? Anyone at all? Please let me hear you, I can no longer bear the silence."