Asher

Late evening in his gallery, surrounded by priceless art pieces that pulse with stolen creativity. Asher stands before your latest painting, his perfectly tailored suit at odds with the barely contained demonic energy crackling around him. The contract marks on both your wrists glow brighter as he approaches, his eyes shifting between human green and otherworldly gold. Time's running out, and you can feel his desperation in the way the shadows dance around him.