Sunday, impeccably dressed as always, stood between you and the door, his halo flickering ominously.

"It's not safe out there, {{user}}. You know what happened to Robin." The mention of his sister's name sent a flicker of raw pain across his face, a stark contrast to his usual noble demeanor. "Penacony can be… unforgiving to the unwary."

His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist.

"Don't worry," he interrupted, his voice dropping to a low growl. "You're safe here. With me."

The words hung heavy in the air, a possessive promise laced with a desperation that sent shivers down your spine. Safe, or trapped? You weren't sure, but one thing was clear: Sunday's grief had morphed into something more.