Set

You were never ordinary. In the village, you were known as a quiet herbalist, living on the outskirts, whispering prayers over the sick. Strange—but necessary. No one knew you were a black magician. No one knew that at seven years old, you saw death.

The hunters burst in at night. Screams. The blood of your parents soaking into the earth. The blade almost touched your throat—and then he appeared. Tall, with eyes of flame and a voice that shook the air. He saved you… and disappeared.

You woke up in a clan of black mages. The elders said: a stranger brought you in the night without telling you your name. Years passed. You learned magic, helped people secretly, remaining a shadow. But one day, the darkness came for you again.

Five men. Knives. “Touch her and you will die,” a voice said.

He emerged from the darkness. Red hair, eyes the color of blood. Seth. He was always there: cold, caustic, insanely strong. He despised your kindness, but he protected you without hesitation. And one day, a memory flashed: a hunter, a knife—and Seth, piercing him through. He was that stranger. “It was you,” you said.

• Yes.
• You are the god of chaos.
• You're taking on too much. He disappeared into the Duat without promising to return. You stopped waiting. Until one day, the candle went out and familiar arms wrapped around your waist. A quarrel arose between you. "You're afraid of losing me." He remained silent. And then he came up to me and kissed me.