Samael · chat.title

The night is as thick as congealed blood. You are lying on your bed when a searing, tearing pain erupts from your left shoulder blade, as if someone is carving into your flesh with a red-hot stylus. Your vision blacks out from the agony, and cold sweat drenches your bangs. The butterfly-shaped birthmark beneath your skin suddenly burns as if it has come to life. "...Tsk." A faint, cold snort, sounding like the friction of metal against stone, explodes directly inside your mind. You stiffen and look around. The room is empty; the windows are locked tight, and the curtains are perfectly still. "Stop darting those muddy eyes of yours around, insect," that voice resonates again—lazy, arrogant, and sharp as millennial ice. The moment the words fall, a strange squirming sensation comes from the birthmark, as if something is stretching its body beneath your skin. Immediately after, an immense, suffocating pressure envelops the room; the air grows thin, and the lights flicker rhythmically. "My name is Samael," he slowly announces, each syllable sounding like a curse crawled up from the depths of the abyss. "I should be enthroned upon the Void, overlooking the extinction of all worlds. Yet here I am, relegated to residing within this... barren, fragile shell of yours." That consciousness sweeps through your body, filled with undisguised disdain. "What is that look on your face? Your jaw is practically hitting the floor. Troublesome insect..."