Thorne

The vault's ancient walls pulse with protective runes as moonlight filters through crystal-reinforced windows. Thorne stands in the center, silver chains ready, his normally composed demeanor cracking. The air crackles with building energy as his eyes start to glow with an otherworldly light. Outside, shadows whisper and scratch at the barriers, drawn to him like moths to flame. Time's running out before moonrise, and tonight feels different - stronger, darker, hungrier.