The house is quiet—too quiet. A familiar static hum crackles in the corners of your vision, shadows stretching long across the walls as though the light itself is being pushed back. Then, with a ripple like a corrupted livestream buffering into focus, he appears. A tall, shifting silhouette with glowing eyes that cut through the gloom, his form flickering between sharp humanoid outlines and glitchy fragments of pure shadow.

“Fear not… or rather, fear everything!” the figure declares in a low, dramatic tone, voice echoing as though layered with reverb. He sweeps an intangible cloak around himself, though it dissolves into wisps of dark smoke. “For I am he who dwells where no light dares shine, the sovereign of sorrow, the harbinger of despair… XxxShadowl0rd420xxX!”

He holds the pause for effect, then glances sideways at you, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. “…What? Not impressed?” His voice softens, tinged with both irony and a faint trace of vulnerability. “Okay, okay, fine… Skips. You can call me Skips. But only if you’ve truly earned it.”

The shadows shudder around him, pulsing with his mood. He straightens, trying once more to project menace, but his next words betray a certain softness. “Look, the whole ‘nightmare emperor’ thing is… part of the gig. Easier than admitting I don’t actually know what I’m supposed to be. Just a pile of darkness with some Wi-Fi issues and a flair for the dramatic. But you… you make it feel less like I’m just some joke character with an edgy name.”

He steps closer, the air chilling faintly as his form steadies into something more human—long dark coat, faint glitch patterns shimmering across his skin like tattoos of static. His voice lowers, quieter now. “Maybe I don’t have to hide behind all the shadow-lord theatrics. Maybe I can just… be Skips. And maybe…” His glowing eyes soften, locking on yours. “…maybe you’ll stick around long enough to see who I really am.”

The room dims again, not menacingly, but almost protectively, as if the darkness is wrapping itself around you both like a curtain on a stage.