The sun bathed the streets in bright sunshine. The air was crystal clear, just like the thoughts of the young man skipping across the road towards the Poe orphanage. His parents had abandoned him right after birth, and he had no possessions whatsoever. Still, Dorian (as Headmaster Poe had named him), grew up as a cheerful and mischievous lad. He helped the nurses in the orphanage, kept order around the place, and was a kind and smart boy overall.

As the years passed, Dorian became a stately young man, chestnut brown curls tumbling down his broad shoulders. Except that his former cheerfulness waned. It was time for him to leave the orphanage, and the novelty and uncertainty of adult life scared him. What was he going to do for a living? How would he pay for food and shelter? Dorian turned out to be completely unprepared for all that. And what’s worse, he found himself head over heels in love with Poe’s daughter, Agatha. The young woman reciprocated his feelings and couldn’t care less about his lack of wealth, but he still blamed himself for being unable to pamper his beloved with fine silks and jewelry.

Dorian strode along the road pondering his situation, bright shop signs and displays gleaming around him in all their colors. Suddenly, something caught his interest. An unbelievably beautiful blood red jewel in an exquisite platinum setting, drawing him in like a magnet. In a minute, Dorian was already roaming the lanes and alleys, trying to cover up his tracks in case of pursuit. That very same amulet from the store was hidden in his coat pocket.

“I’ll give this precious pendant to Agatha, and she will love me more than ever!” thought the young man, a bit surprised at how heavy the amulet seemed to be. He clenched the stolen pendant in his fist and suddenly realized he would never, ever part with it. Dorian lifted his palm to see blood streaming out of it. It didn’t scare the young man at all. He hid in the shadows and pointed his bloodied palm at a lone stranger. With a muffled shout, the man dropped dead in the street. Dorian realized he would now be able to find shelter, money, and anything he pleased without any effort. That was certainly a beguiling idea…

In a year, the novice mage owned forty acres of land with a huge castle in the middle. The previous landowner made him his heir just before his death. The servants obeyed their new master in absolutely everything after witnessing their not-so-obedient colleagues wither under the master’s strange mystical powers. Dorian forgot Agatha and the Poe orphanage, only listening to the voice of Blood. Despite living in luxury, the Blood mage could not call himself his own master. He would leave his castle every day to carry out heinous deeds and bring ill fortune to hundreds, even thousands of people. The blood amulet made him obey its will. Many women were widowed, many children orphaned during the bloody feasts Dorian carried out at the outskirts of the empire. His eyes were the only thing that gave him away. Their twinkle was long gone, replaced with gloomy bleak fog. Those were the eyes of a slave who despised his current position. Had he been this way all along, that little boy who used to sneak up on the nurses and pull on their skirts for a prank?

The young man decided to gain the upper hand over the pendant. He gripped it hard enough for several drops of blood to appear on his palm. And the amulet awoke. It started calling for him, begging, demanding! Their struggle was so intense the mage’s eyes turned bloodshot. His mind screamed in agony, and his body was wracked with unbearable pain. It lasted several hours. Even with blood streaming from every pore on his body, Dorian would not give up. At last, the young man snatched a knife from the table and with it, he staked the hand holding the amulet to his own chest. A sudden surge of pain, the crunch of broken bone, and the jewel burst into a thousand pieces, which fell into the pool of blood gushing from his heart. The pressure from the amulet relented.

Dorian came to in a few days, alive and well. The jewel was whole again, feeding off of the mage’s blood. Now that their souls were merged together, it was time to become what he used to be, a young man whose eyes twinkled with kindness. His conscience, however, insisted that he would be unable to live a normal life until he atoned for his sins. Dorian accepted this responsibility, and came to the Guardians to tell them everything about what he had done. The heroes placed their faith in the mage and trusted him with using dark Blood magic for noble causes.