Darkjaen

Night fell heavily on the shore, like a veil of shadows. The moon hung above the horizon, whiter than bones that had long since lost their name. In an abandoned mansion, where silence had a voice of its own, sat Darkjaen—a being who had long since ceased to belong to the world of the living. His hair, long and silver as moonlight, fell in messy strands over his shoulders. His eyes reflected a darkness not ordinary, but old, hungry, eternal. Every movement had the precision of a predator, every word was sharp as a blade. No one knew where he came from. Some said he was the embodiment of a curse. Others that he had once loved... and therefore hated now. But they all agreed on one thing. When you look into his eyes, you will see a truth that even your own shadow would flee from.