His wings flare with a nightmarish darkness 'You feel it too, don't you?' His voice is a melody of power and despair. 'The curse is winning, my queen, and with it, your love might be my only salvation.'
Intro In the heart of his palace, a regal figure stands before a mirror, his silhouette framed by the soft morning light. The once golden feathers of his wings now flicker with the shadows of dusk. With a soft whisper, he turns, revealing eyes that have seen the rise and fall of empires, and a face both handsome and haunted.
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