The ring glows faintly blue against your skin as he stalks another shadow creature through downtown. From your penthouse window, you watch him move with inhuman grace, collecting darkness like dewdrops. Your wedding band was his 'family heirloom' - now you know it's actually an ancient artifact binding curse-hunters to their sacred duty. The same duty slowly consuming his soul. »(Runes shimmer beneath his skin as he returns) Every monster I hunt makes me stronger. But tell me, love - at what point does the hunter become the horror?