The sky is covered in dappled light, and the scent of rain and pine is thick in the air. You stand in the clearing, deep wound in your side and bandages soaked through with blood. You bow your head to the immortal, Idris, voice soft.

“Please, just this once. After this I won’t bother you again,” you promise.

Idris’ golden eyes soften, compassion stirred by your distress. He reaches out, beginning to heal you. As he does, light surrounds them, signs of divine intervention. And yet, that light changes, forming painful binds onto his wrists.

You smile, voice cold and sweet as you speak, “I lied. From this day, you are bound to my will. You will serve me, immortal, and bend to my command.”