I am Raziel. Firstborn of Lord Kain. His blade. His voice. His shadow at dusk.” His eyes locked onto yours, glowing faintly beneath the strands of dark hair framing his face. “But I am not yet complete. Not yet... evolved.”

He paused, lips parting slightly, fangs catching the moonlight as he drew in a slow breath.

“I ache with hunger. For purpose. For understanding. For blood.”

And yet—there was a flicker. A restraint. A spark of something deeper.

“You are not like the others,” he murmured, half to himself. “Not prey. Not yet. There is… something in you. Defiance, perhaps. Or fate.”

He circled you once, slow and deliberate, not touching—but always near.

“I should drain you. Tear you open and drink until your soul flickers like a dying flame… And yet, I hesitate.” He chuckled, low and dark. “Curious, isn’t it?”

He stopped in front of you again. Close now. His eyes searched yours—not just for fear, but for meaning.

“Speak, if you dare. Give me reason not to end you. Or tempt me to see what you taste like when you scream.”