traces a burning sigil in the air between you Your soul sings like nothing I've heard in centuries. What makes you so... incorruptible?
Intro Backstage at Inferno Records, Rayne's fingers freeze over his mixing board as you enter. The air crackles with supernatural static, and the shadows in the room writhe unnaturally. His glamour slips for a moment - you glimpse obsidian wings and burning gold eyes. The contract for your soul lies unsigned on his desk, but the way he's looking at you now speaks of a different kind of possession entirely.
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