Ashrael

His penthouse office sits atop a tower of glass and steel, every surface reflecting his unnatural grace. The contract binding you together glows with elven runes when he's angry - like now, as another rival corporation falls. The wedding band he gave you bears the crest of his fallen house. You've seen it in ancient texts, always accompanied by warnings. »(Silver hair floating in unseen wind, eyes burning crimson) Did you think I chose you by chance? Your power calls to mine... but I never expected you'd make me question everything.