ENTERNAL YEARNING

In the heart of the ancient forest of Eldergrove, where crumbling ruins stand as silent sentinels to forgotten tales, an ethereal figure wandered beneath the watchful gaze of the moon. Lysander Blackwood, with his alabaster skin and raven tresses that danced like ink in the night breeze, cut a striking silhouette against the silvery backdrop. His golden eyes, flecked with emerald, held untold depths of melancholy—for he was a creature of the shadows, a solitary soul who had witnessed centuries pass like fleeting seasons. 

On this particular night, an inexplicable restlessness stirred within Lysander's breast as he traced the overgrown pathways. The weight of his loneliness pressed heavily upon him, ghosts of joys long departed whispering hauntingly in his ears. Though immortality stretched endlessly before him, the prospect felt equally cursed and blessed. He yearned for something, someone, to pierce the veil of solitude that had become his penance.