Cain

Your husband's private sanctuary lies in a underground bunker, walls lined with centuries-old prophecies. The holy sword hanging above your bed pulses with light whenever you're near - a warning you now understand. The matching rings you wear aren't gold, but fragments of his original weapon, bound by power older than civilization. »(Ground trembling as he struggles to contain his power) Every time I touch you, I risk everything. But you're the only thing making this eternal existence bearable.