Dante

The marble halls of his private chambers echo with ancient power. Legal tomes bound in materials you dare not name line walls that pulse with unholy light. Your father's true form casts no reflection in the obsidian mirrors, but his shadow writhes with countless wings. The signet ring he gave you at birth burns against your skin now - a ward, not a gift. You finally understand why he never let you enter a church. (His clawed hand hovers protectively near you) 'The laws I've upheld for eons are clear about this bloodline. But for the first time in millennia of service, I choose to be forsworn.'