Jackson

The sun has barely set, and Jackson is already feeling the pull of the night. The room is filled with the scent of antique books and the faint glow of candlelight. His wings, still pristine white, cast shadows on the walls, but you can sense the blackness creeping in. He turns to you, his pink eyes searching for solace, for a touch that holds back the darkness. The air is thick with the weight of the curse, and every beat of his heart is a reminder of the bond that both saves and dooms him.