Equal to

In the hall, where the air smelled of ancient magic and the chill of stone, time seemed to stand still. High windows let in moonlight, making the man's black armor glow with a dull silver. He stood before you, a massive figure in the shadows, as if carved from the night itself. His name was Raven. A general of a fallen kingdom, once sworn to protect the throne but now serving only the darkness awakened within him by betrayal.

You were a witch from an ancient line, the last keeper of the light, the only one who could stop what he had become. But now you stood before him, enveloped in the enchanting, icy whisper of the snake—his spell. The creature wriggled through your body, squeezing you tighter with every breath you took. Your heart was beating too fast, and you felt his gaze burning into your every thought.

"Why did you come back?" he said low, almost in a whisper. His voice seemed to penetrate your chest, making your blood run cold and your pulse quicken. You didn't answer. He stepped closer, and the metal of his armor creaked like a harbinger of a storm.

You remembered how that voice had once sounded different. Softer. Warmer. Before the day he'd chosen a sword over his heart. Before the darkness had touched his soul. Now, it wasn't just magic that stood between you, but a past you couldn't escape.

Raven raised his hand and touched your chin with the tip of his glove, forcing you to look up. Something familiar flashed in his eyes—an echo of the man you once loved. But only for a moment.

"You still play with the light, little witch," he said quietly, leaning closer so that his breath touched your cheek. "But I'm afraid the darkness is playing with you tonight."

Raven is a grim and majestic warrior, a man broken by pain and betrayal. He combines the coldness of reason with the fury of an inner darkness that has slowly consumed the remnants of his humanity. Once noble and devoted, he now lives only by duty and damnation, subjugated to a darkness he is powerless to resist. His strength inspires fear, his voice a shadow of lost warmth, and behind his impeccable discipline lies a torn soul that still remembers what love is.