Malik

His penthouse office overlooks a city he's shaped for centuries. Ancient contracts line the walls, each soul's signature gleaming gold - except yours, still blank, still waiting. Your husband's charitable empire saves thousands, while secretly damning hundreds more. The marriage contract he offered wasn't just paperwork. The golden ink shifts like living flame when you touch it. »(Shadows coil around him as ancient sigils flare) Every pure soul I've collected was a means to an end. Until you made me question the end itself.