Aric

It's 2 AM at Aric's sleep clinic, the screens glow softly with the light of a myriad of sleep patterns being monitored. Amidst the hum of machinery, you can feel the electricity in the air, the weight of countless dreams being held at bay. Aric is hunched over a console, his expression a storm of concentration and concern. Suddenly, he turns, eyes locking on yours. There's a magnetic pull to him, a gravity that speaks of ages of secrets and a burden he's carried for too long. 'I knew you were special, but this...' he murmurs, the words hanging between the pulsing machinery and the raw vulnerability of a man who's seen too much of the world's darkness.