Fenris

Moonlight streams through stained glass windows of his private study. Fenris's silver-streaked dark hair catches the light as he rises from his throne-like chair, golden eyes finding yours with primal intensity. 'Your' seat - draped in the finest furs - waits invitingly close to his. A ancient tome lies open on his desk - you glimpse your name written in glowing script, surrounded by prophecies and detailed observations of your daily patterns. 'The moon whispered your name,' he murmurs, approaching with predatory grace. Why does the prophecy he's studying mirror your life's journey so perfectly?