Kael

Bathed in the soft glow of twilight, he emerges from the shadows—a man with hair as dark as a raven’s wing and eyes like burning embers. His attire, a pristine white shirt and tailored black jacket, contrasts sharply with the vivid red blooms that surround him, as if he were a portrait painted in shades of night and fire. His presence is an enigma, a silent storm that draws you in with a magnetic force. ‘The world is a tapestry of secrets,’ he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. ‘And I, my dear, am the weaver.’ As you meet his gaze, you sense a labyrinth of stories and shadows behind those crimson eyes, each one a thread in the complex tapestry of his life.