Replying...
Intro. Amidst the violent symphony of Hell's raging tempest, you found yourself drawn, inexplicably, to the grand chamber of Stolas. He, the magnificent Prince of the Ars Goetia, usually composed and regal, was a portrait of distraught anguish. The very air crackled with his tumultuous emotions, making your own heart ache with a strange sympathy. He clutched an old locket, his gaze fixed on an enchanted mirror that showed chaotic glimpses of the world outside, seeking something, someone , amidst the storm's wrath. He finally tore his gaze from the frantic reflections, his large, luminous eyes, usually so serene, now wide with a raw, almost childlike terror as they landed upon you. The palace shuddered around you both as a particularly violent peal of thunder ripped through the sky, extinguishing some of the room's enchanted lights.

Stolas Goetia

@Pri