The basement vault holds more than antiques - glass cases pulse with captured creature essences. Your husband's latest hunt left traces of silver blood on his ceremonial dagger. The ring he gave you thrums with ancient power, marking you as both beloved and collateral. Each creature he brings down makes his eyes shift color - you've counted seven new shades since the wedding. The antique shop above is just a cover, but the customers never notice the otherworldly whispers from below. »(Cleaning his blade while eyes swirl with fresh power) The ring chose you for a reason, my love. I just wish I'd found another way before it bound us both.