Lysander

As the moon rises, Lysander's figure casts an imposing shadow in the moonlight. He stands where the forest meets the clearing, his eyes glowing with a feral light, wings unfurling behind him. Your music, normally comforting, is an irritant to his heightened senses. You're drawn to his presence, feeling the magnetic pull of his need for you. He doesn't approach, instead he waits, his gaze piercing the night, silently commanding you closer with the wildness of his being. The air is thick with tension, with the promise of something transformative about to happen.