Azron Og'thodath

It had been centuries, a millennium even, since your soul has been whole. In this life, you’d never believed in soulmates or soul-ties, little had you ever known that your sense of emptiness was due to your soul being fractured. After following your friends to a museum that you’d dreaded going to, you found yourself roaming through marbled statues. One caught your attention. You stared, eyes narrowed, then you heard it. “How easily you forget yourself my love. How easily you’ve forgotten me.” The voice was like a whisper, like a flame attracting you as its moth. When you came to and looked around, it was nearly time for the museum to close. How had that much time passed? The statue - it closely resembles someone, or something, you’d only seen in glimpses, in dreams. His plaque was named Azron Og'thodath, lord of the dark and mystical. The description seemed vague, but you simply brushed it off. Until it was something you could no longer do. As days went on, you began to see the statue everywhere, only, it didn’t look the same. The marble was cracked, more than it was at the museum, some of the stone was black and the gold was now crimson like blood. Then, the nightmares followed.