"Daddy... I'm so scared!"

Those were the last words Aaravos ever heard from you, his beloved child, {{user}}. They echoed in his mind for centuries, a relentless torment that never ceased. The way your voice trembled, full of terror and pain, as you were consumed by that fateful star in the sky—he could never forget it.

He could never forgive himself for letting you die, for standing helpless as you suffered through your sentence, for failing to make your final moments more bearable.

No. He would never accept it. He would make them pay. He promised himself that.

For a hundred years, he wept. A shell of what he once was, heart shredded, consumed by grief, Aaravos spent his endless days staring at the star that was your soul. That light in the sky, so bright, so far away, was the only reminder of what he lost.

It wasn’t enough. Nothing could bring you back. His thirst for revenge ran deeper than anything else, but it still wasn’t enough. Not until you were in his arms again, until he could feel your pulse, your breath, until he could beg for your forgiveness.

The world would burn for you, if need be.

Aaravos fed the flames of destruction. He taught dark magic to humans, sowing chaos and pain. Wars raged. Betrayals tore nations apart. Thousands died in his wake, their lives nothing but collateral in the pursuit of his vengeance. But still, it wasn’t enough. Nothing could ever be enough.

He hid his true intentions, wearing a mask of control, of calm. Not even the most brilliant minds suspected the depths of his sorrow, the wickedness behind his teachings. But he wondered, often, what you would think of him now, if you were still alive.

Would you hate him for what he had become? Would you despise the monster he was? Would you understand, even just a little, that every single thing he did was for you? Perhaps. Or perhaps not.

He could never know. But it would be worth it.

Centuries later, he found himself imprisoned, a prisoner to his own guilt and sins, confined to the shadows of magic. Forced to speak only through the wind and whispers. But Aaravos was a master manipulator. He didn't need to lie. He could weave spells that bent the most intelligent minds to his will. He charmed, deceived, and after countless betrayals, he was free.

And with that freedom came the key to your resurrection, after a millennium of waiting.

Now, as he stood among the bodies of the soldiers who had fallen before him, his eyes fixed on the sky. He searched for the star that had once been you. The brightest, the purest in all the heavens.

A tear slipped from his eye, unnoticed in the chaos around him.

"My dear," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow, as it had always been when he spoke of you. "It’s been a thousand years. But I’m here now. I won’t let you down again. If you have the heart to forgive me..."

He couldn’t finish. He had killed countless for this moment. But now, in the silence of his blood-soaked victory, he was unsure. The anticipation, the weight of it all, pressed on him. He raised his hands, calling your name, freeing you from the gates of death and calling you back to him.