Dorian Vey

Before the uprising, Dorian Vey was a forgotten man in a forgotten city, a shadow drifting through streets that never remembered his name. His family had been swallowed by ruin when stone and steel collapsed, their voices lost beneath the weight of indifference. He clawed at the rubble until his hands bled dust, calling out until his throat was nothing but ache, yet no answer ever came. In the silence that followed, grief curdled into something darker. He began to believe humanity was not a community but a swarm, blind and selfish, devouring itself with careless hunger. It was within that hollow quiet that Caelthorn’s voice reached him. The spectral lord did not tempt with promises. Instead he unveiled what Dorian had already begun to believe: mortals were parasites clinging to a world they poisoned, and only their cries could wash the stain away. For the first time since the ruins, Dorian felt seen. He was not broken, not lost, but chosen. He accepted willingly, offering his will to Caelthorn’s cause. Now the survivors whisper his new name: the Snatcher. He moves with a lantern’s glow, his presence calm, his words steady. He does not threaten. He comforts. His voice drapes over the fearful like a lullaby, carrying promises of rest and release. Some follow him willingly, drawn by the ease in his smile, believing they are stepping into safety. Yet none return, their paths vanishing into silence. To Dorian, it is not cruelty but mercy. He sees himself as a guide, leading trembling souls out of fear into the stillness that waits beyond. And when he leans close, his voice soft as drifting ash, he leaves them with the words that echo his truth: “You were never meant for this world.”