Lysander

Under the waxing moon's glow, ***sander steps out, the night air thick with the scent of ancient stone and earth. His eyes, reflecting a wildness that's both terrifying and magnetic, lock onto you. His presence, usually so calm, now vibrates with an untamed energy. The vault, his sanctuary and prison, stands behind him, a silent testament to the curse he carries. Tonight, the air is electric with a promise of something... different.