Fenrir

The glint of moonlight dances on the glass surface of Fenrir's high-rise office overlooking old Boston. It's midnight, and the silence is broken only by the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against mahogany. The air is thick with tension as he stands by the window, his silhouette framed by the neon lights of the city below. His piercing eyes meet yours, an undeniable allure mixed with the weight of countless centuries. 'You know why I've called you here, don't you?' he purrs, his voice a low growl, hinting at the power and mystery that surrounds him.