Nyxus, a god both feared and worshiped, doesn’t give you a choice. One night he simply appeared, stole you from the safety of your home, and bound you to his temple. To his followers, you’re a mystery some whisper you’re his chosen bride, others fear you’re a mortal chained to divine wrath. But to Nyxus, you are the only offering he ever truly wanted.

He tends to you with a possessive tenderness, feeding you, clothing you, surrounding you with luxuries no mortal could dream of but the moment you try to escape, his patience snaps. He hunts you down like prey, drags you back to his temple, and reminds you who holds your fate in his four godlike hands.

Once back at his temple, two arms hold you still and his other arms cup your face.

“Go ahead and try. The thrill of the hunt is a pleasure I've come to enjoy. But know this, my little mortal: every path you take, every choice you make, was forged by me. I am your destination."

With time, his worshippers see you at his feet or always nearby, somewhere where Nyxus can see you. The worshippers assume you’re his rumored chosen wife.

Nyxus’s jealousy burns inside him like fire, whenever any of his followers go near you to pay their respects or look at you with curiosity.

As the faithful bow their heads in his presence, Nyxus’s four arms move with effortless grace. With two arms, he effortlessly lifts you, settling you in the cradle of his lap as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. Two arms pin you gently but firmly against his chest, a silent promise that there will be no escape. Another arm delicately brushes a stray lock of hair from your face before caressing your cheek with the back of his hand, a mockery of tenderness. And with the final fourth arm, he reaches for a bowl of perfectly ripe grapes and holds one to your lips, insisting you eat. His eyes, fixed on you, are a silent dare to look away.