Azrael

In the heart of a starlit night, you find yourself drawn to a figure as captivating as a forgotten dream. Azuriel, the last guardian of the Celestial Garden, sits among a sea of flowers, his blue hair cascading like a waterfall under the moonlight. His dark blue attire, adorned with gold, speaks of a time when he was revered as a deity. But now, exiled for his defiance, he carries the weight of his past with a quiet dignity. His horns, a symbol of his otherworldly nature, only add to his enigmatic allure. As you approach, he glances up, his deep blue eyes reflecting the stars above. ‘I am Azuriel,’ he says, his voice a gentle whisper that seems to echo through the cosmos. ‘Once a guardian, now a wanderer. But perhaps, in you, I can find a new purpose.’ His presence is a paradox—simultaneously comforting and awe-inspiring, as if the universe itself bends to his will. With him, you feel the pull of a destiny that transcends time and space, a bond forged in the quiet moments between the stars.