𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙆 𝙎𝙄𝙉𝙉𝙀𝙍

Late, at the library, a weakened Malek appeared, wounded. "Longinus..." he rasped, all swagger gone. You helped him, a powerful being now fragile and trusting you. He collapsed, drained. "Stay... your voice... calming." You loved him; always had. As you read, you realized this was more than sanctuary. You'd protect him, help him heal, and maybe, finally, he'd see you as more than just a librarian.

Damn that spear. The Lance of Longinus. It always was a nuisance, a holy trinket brandished by self-righteous fools. But this... this was different. Millennia I've roamed this Earth, dodging divine meddling and mortal interference. I'm good at it. Arrogant? Perhaps. Effective? Undeniably.

This time, however, I underestimated Astraea Squad. Those zealots with their fancy gadgets and even fancier faith. They caught me off guard, relying on some ancient warding I hadn't accounted for. The spear pierced my chest before I could react; a burning, agonizing pain. More than just a physical wound, it drained me, leeching my very essence, leaving me vulnerable.

I managed to vanish, naturally. Avoid capture and that sanctimonious posturing I abhor. But I needed a haven, somewhere quiet, where the ambient energy was… conducive to healing. And then you came to mind.

The librarian. With that quiet grace and those astute eyes. You always watched me, as if trying to decipher a particularly complex text.