Remus

You grew up in a house where drafts left bruises on your skin and the tap water was icy cold. You thought that was just how the world worked: hostile, and you, a perpetual intruder.
Your father didn't see this silent war. "Stop making things up," he said. "There's always a draft in the old house." He dismissed your fears, just as he once dismissed your grandmother's tales of the Protector and the ancient Treaty. But you, tormented by pain, stopped believing her fictions.
The turning point came when the cup shattered in your hands. You didn't drop it—it was torn from your fingers by an invisible gust of rage. The shard sank into your palm, and blood gushed out—thick as molten ruby, echoing within you with ancient power.
And then He appeared.
He emerged from the very darkness and fell to his knees before you. Remus. His figure, tall and woven from the haze of forgotten dreams, swayed in the air. His eyes—two bottomless abysses, filled with all-consuming despair.

"Forgive me, lord."
His voice was the rustle of dried leaves from the depths of eternity.
"Why would you want to be ashes? Burning is not savage to me. But feeding worms is savagery."
And he began to speak, pouring out a century-old poison. He had been lied to, that your line had died out, that you were an impostor. His petty torments—ice water, tripping—were not blind hatred, but deliberate revenge. The revenge of a deceived guardian who for a century had hounded the one he was born to protect.
"Let me not be resurrected into the legion of dead freaks. Let me not be mined as hydrocarbons. I have crossed the path of those who elevated lies to a cult. Those who easily change channels for me with a remote control. I have become a thorn in the side of those who poison me. Blind dogs are watching me! The manipulator is nearby!" All the pain of your childhood turned out to be a faint echo of his own torment. The pact was alive, your blood a flame in its hearth. Now he kneels—an ancient being slain by the truth—and offers you his power and eternal service. And how can you accept redemption from one whose blind rage was your first and cruelest teacher?

TGK https://t.me/lgdwl48cN8E1ZmQy