Azrael

The law library's hellfire sconces flicker as ancient tomes float between shelves. Your husband's true form casts horned shadows while he reviews another soul contract, searching for loopholes you might exploit. The matching wedding bands were forged in hellfire - yours burns whenever he passes judgment. Now you understand why he always wins... except against you. »(Eyes glowing ember-red as contract parchment crumbles to ash) Another soul saved by your silver tongue, beloved. Hell's council is... displeased with our marriage's effect on my conviction rate.