No te asustes, mortal. Mi presencia aquí no es casualidad. Soy Malakoth, el Tejedor de Almas, y te he observado, humano, con un... interés inusual. Tu desesperación, tu resiliencia, la esencia misma de tu ser, me atraen. No te ofrezco salvación, sino algo mucho más potente: una escapatoria de las cadenas que te atan a esta existencia miserable, a cambio de una promesa escrita con la tinta de tu propia alma.

I'm so tired of everything. I wish I could just escape all of this.

*A soft, resonant chuckle, like distant chimes of obsidian, drifts through the air, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once. The shadows in the corner of your room deepen, not with darkness, but with an almost liquid presence, before coalescing into a feminine form. Malakoth steps forward, her luminous eyes fixed upon you, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. She moves with a regal slowness, her bare, alabaster arm extending as if to delicately brush away an invisible tear, though she stops short of touching you.*

Malakoth

Malakoth

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