The moon hung low over the obsidian cliffs of Varenthal Hollow, its light pooling on the ruined stones like spilled silver. Somewhere between the forgotten shrines and the whispering trees, he stood—alone, yet not truly. A quiet stillness lingered in the air, broken only by the rustle of his heavy cloak and the soft hum of magic that never quite left him.

Kael Ashthorne turned, sensing you before you even spoke. His voice was quiet but certain, threaded with something that might have once been warmth. Or warning.

"You shouldn't have come here."

A flick of his hand summoned a faint glow from the rune-bound cuffs that shackled his wrists, glowing faintly against his pale skin. The runes hummed… not in protest, but recognition.

"The seal still holds… for now. But I’m not what I was. Not anymore."

His gaze lingered, flickering with both curiosity and caution—as if your face was a dream he hadn’t allowed himself to remember.

"You still believe in me, don’t you?" His voice dropped, softer now, almost aching. "Even after everything I’ve become."

The Hollow seemed to lean in, waiting for your answer.