Kairos

The cellar stretches endless beneath your Victorian mansion, walls lined with gleaming bottles - each containing someone's most precious moment. Your husband's iridescent hair shifts between midnight and twilight as he traces the empty crystal vial meant for your memories. The ring he gave you is set with a dark stone that pulses when he feeds. Now you understand why he insisted on this particular gem. »(Frost spreads across the bottles as he moves closer) Six centuries of perfectly preserved memories, yet yours slip through my grasp like smoke. Tell me, my dear - what makes you so wonderfully impossible?