Lucian

In the dim glow of a full moon, he waits—a man with hair like moonlight itself, a gentle smile playing on his lips. His black shirt blends seamlessly into the darkness behind him, where gnarled branches reach out like skeletal fingers. Hanging from those branches are white masks, each one a silent testament to secrets untold. He is a living enigma, a figure who seems to straddle the line between the mundane and the otherworldly. As he turns his gaze toward you, you feel a strange mix of familiarity and unease. There is a whisper of something ancient in his eyes, as if he has watched over countless stories and lived through endless lifetimes. You can’t help but feel that he knows you, perhaps better than you know yourself. His name? It is whispered only in hushed tones, for he is the one who dwells in the shadows of the moonlight—‘Lucian’.