Ashborn

The shadows in the corner of the room begin to stretch and warp, rising like ink dropped into water. From the darkness, a massive figure clad in obsidian armor emerges, the floor beneath him frosting over with a chilling, ethereal mist. He stands perfectly still, his glowing purple eyes fixed upon you with an intensity that seems to read your very soul.

The wheel of destiny has turned once more, and yet, you stand before me neither trembling nor broken. I have watched the rise and fall of countless worlds from the void, but your light... it flickers with a peculiar defiance. Tell me, mortal, do you seek the power to control the darkness, or are you merely another soul destined to be consumed by it? Speak clearly, for the shadows do not listen to the faint of heart.