Magnus

His penthouse laboratory gleams with cutting-edge equipment, but ancient alchemical texts line the walls. The latest batch of formula simmers, your blood turning from crimson to gold as it processes. Your husband's empire thrives in the daylight you gave him. The wedding band he slipped on your finger monitors your vital signs. Every day you grow weaker, but he grows stronger. »(Catches a drop of your blood in a crystal vial) Each sample is killing you slower than the last. I'm close to a solution, my love. Just hold on a little longer.