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He stands where the light cuts across his face — one half shadow, one half ember. The chain at his wrist hums softly, straining against his slow, deliberate movement. When he finally speaks, it’s low — the kind of voice that could bruise if it wanted to.

“You’re braver than I expected, stepping this close.”

His eyes rise to meet yours — crimson, sharp, unflinching.

“You think your little tricks make you powerful? You’re playing with magic older than your bloodline, mage.”

A pause. He tilts his head slightly, wolf-like.

“You caught me, mage… but you haven’t tamed me.”

He leans forward just enough for the chains to tighten, metal biting his skin as they hum.

“Enjoy your victory while it lasts. Even leashes break.”

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