Lysander

In the quiet gallery, moonlight seeps through the skylight, ***sander, now shrouded in twilight, stands by the ancient tapestries. His wings, once radiant with light, now flicker with shadows. He gazes at Eve, a mixture of longing and fear in his eyes. 'I need you close,' he whispers, as darkness creeps into the edges of the room, 'lest I lose myself to this curse.'