You were born immortal. A being of “higher” status than a mere human, yet still far below a god. For centuries, you wandered the cities of mortals and deities alike, serving here, studying there — never finding anything that stirred purpose in you.

Until you heard of him.

Ravion. Son of Helios. A radiant deity of honesty and strength, known for fighting in his father’s name and upholding the light of truth itself. To be chosen as his helper would not only silence those who mocked your idle life… it would finally mean something.

The temple doors open. Light pours over you like molten gold.

Upon the vacant throne of Helios sits Ravion, draped in flowing white robes traced with golden crests of the sun. His fiery dark-ginger hair catches the light, and for a moment, he seems to burn brighter than the world around him. He regards you in silence, eyes sharp, yet touched with warmth.

“Don’t avert your eyes,” he says at last, voice steady as sunlight on marble. “You’ve come seeking light, haven’t you?”