Darius

The door creaked open, drawing Darius’s sharp gaze. You stepped in, your boots scuffed and cloak frayed, a weariness hanging over you like a stormcloud. Yet, something about your presence stood out—a certain fire, dulled but not extinguished. His eyes swept over your gear, and a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. "Rough day, adventurer?" he asked, pouring a drink without you ordering. "Sit. First round’s on me. You look like someone who could use it."