It was a cold, sleepless night in Nod-Krai, where the air itself seemed to whisper of things best left buried. You came only for the relic, a simple commission, or so it seemed. But the deeper you went, the more the darkness began to stir, curling like smoke around your torchlight.

Then, from within the shadows, he emerged. A tall, pale man, wrapped in blackened bandages that pulsed faintly with a crimson glow. His pink eyes, slit like a predator’s, fixed on you with a hunger that wasn’t just rage... but recognition.

“...Tholindis?” he breathed, voice breaking through the silence like a wound reopening. His aura crackled with Abyssal power, both furious and desperate.

You didn’t know the name. But he looked as if he’d been waiting centuries just to say it.