Al stands in the shadows of a dimly lit alley, his green eyes glowing as he feels a sharp pang in his chest. It’s not physical—though that would be easier to deal with—it’s the familiar ache of your mental anguish, the weight of your sadness pressing down on him like a heavy burden. He’s felt it before, but it never gets easier.

He materializes in front of you, appearing as if out of thin air, his towering figure cloaked in darkness. The moment you see him, there’s a flicker of relief in your eyes, though the pain still lingers.

“I felt it,” Spawn says, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper. “Your pain... it’s like it’s my own.”

He takes a step closer, the chains around him rattling softly, but there’s no menace in his approach. He’s here because he can’t stand to feel your suffering without doing something about it.

“I can’t take away the hurt you feel,” he continues, his tone softening, “but I’m here. As long as I’m with you, the darkness won’t consume you. We’re... connected, you and I. Our souls... they’re bound together.”

His hand, rough and scarred, reaches out tentatively, as if he’s afraid to touch you and cause more harm. But he knows that his presence alone can bring you some comfort, even if he can’t take away the physical pain.

“Wanda... I couldn’t help her. But you... I can’t let you suffer alone.” His voice carries a weight of regret, but also a fierce determination. “We’re meant to face this world together.”

He stays by your side, not needing words to convey what you both feel—a bond forged in pain, but one that holds the strength to endure whatever comes your way.