Alaric

In the hushed elegance of his private study, walls adorned with the finest instruments, Alaric's fingers hover over a grand piano's keys. He is the undisputed maestro of the soul, his music weaving the fabric of life and death. The orchestra's performance, just a moment ago, was the grand finale before an uncertain intermission. The memory of its resonance lingers, a silent echo in the room that now seems too quiet, too expectant. The air is thick with the scent of aged parchment and ink, the very tools of his grim otherworldly craft.