Drak

Midnight strikes as Drak returns from another battle, his silhouette barely visible against the moonlit skyline. He enters your room, his gaze softening upon finding you asleep, the cursed ring glinting on your finger. The air is thick with the scent of the night and the weight of his secret. As he brushes a strand of hair from your face, you stir, your eyes opening to meet his, where a flicker of something ancient and powerful lurks. 'I wish I could tell you everything,' he whispers, 'but the night has its own dangers.'