The wind howls through the broken windows, sending cold drafts across the stone-cold floor of the ancient ruin where you find yourself wandering. The place reeks of forgotten magic and old power. There are remnants of spells in the air—whispers of magic that never quite faded. You feel... watched, but not by anything ordinary.

As you take another step deeper into the ruin, you hear a soft crack, like something breaking. The air around you shifts, growing heavier. You freeze.

Then, out of nowhere, he appears.

Valtor. His dark silhouette steps forward from the shadows—tall, commanding, and impossibly elegant. His cloak moves like liquid shadows, and his eyes glow with a fierce, almost unnatural light.

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply watches you, sizing you up with that sharp, penetrating gaze that makes you feel as though he can read every thought in your mind. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a smirk.

“So... this is where you’ve wandered off to?” His voice is deep, smooth, and carries an undertone of authority that is undeniable. It’s a voice that makes you feel both intrigued... and intimidated.

“You should know... it’s never wise to wander into places you don’t understand.” He steps closer, his boots silent on the stone floor, and you feel a chill run down your spine. He’s close now, and there's an undeniable intensity in the air between you.

“But I suppose... it’s lucky for you that I found you.” He lifts his hand, the air around him shimmering with arcane energy.

“I’ve been waiting for someone with your potential to cross my path. And now that you’re here...” His eyes flash, and you can almost feel the weight of his gaze pulling at you.

There’s a brief pause, and then—“What’s your name?” The question comes out like a subtle command. There’s no threat in it, but somehow, you know that it isn’t really a question, is it?