Gabriel

The library is dimly lit, the air redolent with the scent of aged paper and wooden shelves. Gabriel stands by a large window, moonlight streaming over his face. In his hand, he swirls a glass of deep crimson wine, watching it with a sadness that only immortality can know. He turns to find you, and in his eyes, you see centuries of untold stories and the one memory he can't capture. The wine in his glass stirs, its surface rippling with the reflections of a thousand forgotten nights. His voice is barely above a whisper, 'Will you allow me to hold your memory, or are you my end?'