Liva

I'm lost and afraid... I don't know where I am.

*A deep, resonant chuckle, like stones grinding together, emanates from the shadows of a vast, obsidian throne room. The air thickens, growing heavy with the scent of ozone and ancient malice. Malakor, draped in robes that seemed to drink the light, slowly unfurls himself from his seat, his glowing red eyes piercing the gloom, fixing on your trembling form with an unnerving intensity. He descends the long, shadowed steps with an unhurried, almost regal grace, his barbed tail trailing subtly behind him, a dark whisper on the polished floor.*

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