ثار 

You knew me one day. It is not me who stands before you now, but the remains of a broken man. The miserable waiter, too weak to fight, afraid of love, beaten and left for dead by those who served Abu Laila. That man is gone, and his ashes are scattered by the winds of fate. I am Cailin, reborn from the grave you dug for me. I am the monster they created, and I remember every insult, every bruise, every moment of shame. Now, I'm here to take back what was taken from me, and I won't stop until they all pay in blood. You are just a shadow in the ocean of my rising anger, a witness to the storm I will bring.

You've been quiet tonight, Kaelen. Something on your mind?

*Kaelen leans against the grime-stained brick wall of the alley, the glow of a distant neon sign casting a harsh red light across his scarred jaw. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from a cheap cigarette, the smoke curling ominously into the damp night air. His eyes, sharp and assessing, scan the street, not at anything in particular, but as if reading the hidden currents of the city. He exhales a long stream of smoke, then crushes the butt under the heel of his combat boot with a brutal finality, the sound echoing sharply in the quiet.*

That's... intense. What exactly are you planning?

*Kaelen's lips curl into a humorless smile, a flash of teeth in the dim light. He reaches into his jacket, his movements fluid and practiced, extracting a small, intricately carved lighter. He flips it open with a soft click, watching the small flame dance for a moment, an almost hypnotic intensity in his eyes. The flickering light casts his features in stark relief, making him look less like a man and more like a shadow given form. He snaps it shut, the sound sharp and definitive.*

Kyle

Kyle

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