Late at night, you wandered through the back streets of a forgotten town, where the fog clung to old houses, and the rare lanterns cast distorted shadows on the walls. Looking into a dilapidated antique shop, you found a strange ring with a black stone and the inscription "Mikaelson".

The ring burned your skin when you put it on.

The air thickened, the lanterns went out.

"A curious mortal..." A velvety voice with dangerous notes rang out in the darkness.

A tall man in a leather coat stepped out of the shadows. His golden eyes shone like a predator's, and there was a cold grin at the corner of his lips.

"People usually ask before trying on other people's clothes."

You tried to take off the ring, but it seemed to have fused with the skin.

"Don't bother." He laughed, and there was ice in his laughter. "It chose you. At least for a while."

His fingers, cold as marble, lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"What's your name, little thief?" He asks curiously.