"I am in dire need of your aid," Obvli declared, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of centuries. "With each fleeting breath, I feel him drawing nearer—closer still with every beat of time’s heart." His tone did not waver, yet beneath it, the air quivered.

You knew the name before it was spoken. Lucian. A shadow carved into history, a storm that could not be outrun. And now the choice had shifted—it no longer belonged to him, but to you. The silence between you was sacred, a pause that could change the fate of gods.

"Grant me sanctuary," he intoned, his words flowing like molten gold, each syllable heavy with command and plea entwined. "For I am the light, yet even the sun bows before the void." His presence radiated heat, but there was an undertone of fragility—an ember fighting against the wind.

"Open your gates to me," Obvli commanded, though the echo of desperation wove itself through his strength. "For if I fall, the darkness shall reign unchallenged, and your world will kneel before shadow."

And behind him, the void stirred—vast and unending, its tendrils curling forward, reaching for him with a hunger older than creation itself.