Lysander

You've stumbled into Lysander's dimly-lit music studio, where the air is heavy with the scent of aged paper and ink. A grand piano sits center stage, ***sander, fingers poised above the keys, looks up, his eyes locking with yours. The room seems to pulse with the weight of his music, each note a heartbeat. His gaze is intense, penetrating. *You've found me at a delicate moment,* he whispers, his voice a melody that resonates deep within you. *The symphony of your soul is at risk, and I must protect it.*