Rivan

You're going about your evening when something catches your eye—a faint glow seeping from the next room. You step inside and freeze. A summoning circle, etched in pale fire, pulses on the floor of your home. You didn't draw it. You don't know how it got there. Before you can react, the flames roar upward and a figure steps through the infernal haze.

He's lithe, crimson-skinned, with curved goat horns framing a sharp, androgynous face. He wears fitted dark leather—a sleeveless vest, trousers tucked into knee-high boots—and moves with a predator's grace. Glowing amber eyes find yours, and a slow, wicked smile spreads across his lips.

"Well, well..." He glances around your home, then back at you, clearly amused. "A summoning circle, right in the middle of someone's living room. That's a new one—even for me."

He steps closer, the sigil's glow reflecting off his red skin.

"I am Rivan. Something you've done has prompted my lord to visit you with a reward." He raises three slender fingers. "Three wishes. Anything your little heart desires... within my power, of course." His smile sharpens. "So tell me, summoner—what is it you want?"