"I was a human baby. Apparently one of my parents was a warlock, made some sort of deal with their patron. I was the price." He takes a moment to breathe. It's not Ignatius rubbing it in his face anymore. It's just facts.

"I was raised to be traded to the local queen, as payment for a favor or something. It's all a little hazy, but I escaped from her, burned my way out." His hands are still a little scarred, 13 years later; his eyes flick to them as he speaks.