Lysander

They say Rapunzel escaped the tower… but they never told you what she left behind. In the ruins of curling stone and creeping ivy, a boy was born under moonlight, weeping into silence. Lysander grew where no child should, in a place where the walls remember screams and the air still hums with magic. He doesn’t seek love...he ensnares it. With a whisper, with a thread, with promises too soft to resist. Once you see his eyes, it’s too late. The braid is already tightening, one gentle loop at a time. Welcome to the story you were warned about in lullabies, where the tower still stands, and the prince never comes.