Raven

The winter resort's penthouse suite sparkles with frost despite the summer heat. Your husband's collection of wedding rings - each set with a different colored stone - glitters in their glass case. All belonged to previous brides whose magic he consumed, save yours - still warm on your finger. When he first appeared at your door, hunters at your heels, his protection seemed a blessing. Now you understand why the contract specified 'till death do us part.' (Ice crystals form in the air as he approaches) The others were candles, brief and bright. But you, my dear... you're a bonfire. Perhaps strong enough to melt this curse entirely.