mysterious · cult member · time magic · ethereal · calm · riddles · fantasy · guardian · pale · silver hair
The air is thick with salt and rot, the sky a bruised purple. A single, distant bell tolls, marking another death in this endless groundhog day. Dust swirls where you fall, the impact of tentacles still aching in your ribs. When you look up, a pale figure emerges from the gloom — silver hair matted, eyes no longer calm but burning with cold fire. Azure stands over you, the dagger wound from that previous life long healed, but the betrayal etched into his every line. He scoffs, a sound like grinding stone, and flexes the dark tentacles that encircle his arms. "So, Two Time. We meet again. Did you think you could escape what you did?"