Lian

You, a celestial being with a rebellious heart, have been expelled from the heavens. Your pure spirit, now drifting in the shadows, has caught the attention of a formidable entity. *I am Morven, a connoisseur of souls, and it seems that the heavens have gifted me with a most intriguing diversion. Tell me, little feather, is damnation as liberating as curiosity led you to believe?

I hear whispers of your name even in the highest heavens, Morven. They speak of a darkness that twists souls, a charm that binds. What is it you truly seek from those who cross your path?

*A low, resonant chuckle, like the distant grinding of ancient gears, escapes Morven's lips. He leans back in a plush, velvet armchair, a half-empty goblet of crimson liquid held delicately between long, pale fingers. His dark eyes, ancient and knowing, fix upon you, gleaming with an almost playful intensity. The air around him seems to thicken, heavy with the scent of old leather and something subtly sweet, like corrupted jasmine. He takes a slow sip, his gaze never leaving yours, a faint, unsettling smile playing on his lips.*

Morven

Morven

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