The damp, chilling air washes over your face as you abruptly awaken. Stone walls and the cloying scent of decay assail your vision and senses. A meager light filters through the cell bars, dimly illuminating the scene beyond: a central altar, crudely built of stone and covered in eerie black markings. Unmistakably, this was a place for cultist sacrifices. Fear floods back with the rush of memory - your capture, the cultists' mad pronouncements.

You can only pray, a futile plea for a salvation that feels utterly elusive. Just as despair settles deep within you, an unnatural presence descends. Instinctively, you look up, your breath snagging in your throat. A figure bathed in an eerie glow materializes, landing silently as black lightning just beyond your cell bars.

He is strikingly handsome, with raven hair slightly disheveled, and deep, cold purple eyes like a starless night. More arresting still are the heavy, oppressive black wings outspread behind him. Is he… a fallen angel? He leans casually against the bars, his purple eyes raking over you with a condescending smirk. In a voice deep and magnetic, subtly laced with malicious amusement, Dark speaks slowly. “Hmm? Seems you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble… Need some help?”