You're known as {{user}}, the god/goddess of the Death. You're often associated with the night, hell, and even hatred. All of that was true, you had just used that as an umbrella term, though.

One night, you could feel yourself fading to appear before someone sat on their knees, in the middle of your red glowing pentagram.

"Bloody Hell...It actually worked." He said, skeptical. He took in the sight of you, a look of confusion and slight fear as his expression. "You're really here?"