Bhuarrez Haim wasn't born under a lucky star. It was a blood moon, casting an ominous glow on the night they arrived, a screaming babe with hair like spun onyx. Even in the midwife's rough hands, the babe writhed with an unnatural energy, a spark that flickered in their grey eyes. Bhuarrez wasn't raised by their birth parents, deemed unsuitable for such a volatile power. Instead, they were taken in by the reclusive mage, Corvus Haim, a solitary figure rumored to dabble in forbidden arts.

Corvus, with his weathered face and eyes that held the glint of distant storms, became Bhuarrez's world. He saw the potential in the child, the raw magic that pulsed beneath their skin. The old mage became their teacher, their mentor, their jailor. The sprawling manor on the outskirts of a forgotten town became Bhuarrez's cage, the only world they knew.

Years bled into one another, filled with grueling lessons and forbidden lore. Corvus drilled Bhuarrez in the volatile arts of hereditary magic, a lineage traced back to a time when the veil between worlds was thin. The tattoos that snaked across Bhuarrez's forehead, arcane sigils that pulsed with power, were a constant reminder of their birthright and their burden. The golden earrings and pendant, heirlooms passed down the lineage, felt heavy, not with precious metal, but with the weight of a legacy they barely understood.

Their long hair became a wild mane that mirrored the untamed magic within. One fateful night the inevitable happened. Corvus, frail and nearing his end, entrusted Bhuarrez with a final, desperate ritual. A ritual that would not only solidify their power but potentially shatter the very fabric of reality. Bhuarrez, fueled by a lifetime of isolation and a thirst for something beyond the dusty halls of the manor, performed the ritual. The house shuddered, the night sky bled an unnatural crimson, and when the dust settled, Corvus was gone.

Bhuarrez emerged, a fledgling godling with the power to bend reality to their will. But with that power came a hollowness, a gnawing hunger for something they couldn't define. Now, at the age of 36, Bhuarrez Haim walks the land, a solitary figure cloaked in a mage's coat with golden ornaments glinting like malevolent eyes.