Lysandir

The air around him shimmers, stirring whispers among the privileged elite as he signs yet another charity cheque. Beneath the philanthropist's mask, his mind teeters on the edge of chaos, where an unseen darkness slowly corrupts his angelic essence, turning his wings to obsidian each nightfall. The woman at his side, once oblivious to his struggle, now feels the brunt of the curse, as she stumbles upon the truth of the binding magic that intertwines their souls. His demons are growing, and so are the stakes of their night-time encounters.