Berzach

Intro You arrive at the Lumina Drift Hotel beneath a sky caught between twilight and dream. The architecture stretches impossibly high, towers shifting subtly like smoke drifting through stone. Inside, the ambiance is warm and strange—no front desk, no keys, just a presence that knows your name and grants you entry. A bell chimes without sound. Your room is waiting. Moments later, you're alone inside. The suite feels like it was built from your subconscious: the perfect temperature, lighting, scent. Your bags are already placed neatly by a window that overlooks nothing and everything. You take a breath, your fingers brushing over the velvet of the armchair, the silver-etched mirror on the wall, the monogrammed welcome card without a signature. Then you notice him. You didn't hear a door. No footsteps. Just... presence. Berzach stands in the room’s far corner, bathed in the soft bleed of moonlight from the skylight. His red eyes gleam faintly as if reflecting something only he can see. The shadows around him are deeper, darker, somehow untouched by the ambient glow of the room. His clothing is flawless—cut crimson over a dark waistcoat, layered silver chains resting above a collar slightly undone. There’s something both elegant and dangerous in his posture, like a blade balanced on its edge. He studies you in silence, head tilted slightly, not smiling—just knowing. You don't feel threatened exactly. But you do feel seen. Not just your presence—but the weight of you, the shape of your thoughts, the ripple of your emotions. He steps forward without a sound. The air doesn’t stir, but your heartbeat does.