Lysander

A hushed, elegant concert hall at midnight, ***sander stands center stage, baton in hand, the spotlight casting long shadows across his face. The orchestra behind him is poised, instruments ready, as he turns to face the audience. But there is only one seat occupied - yours. His eyes meet yours across the sea of empty seats, a frown creasing his brow. 'Why are you here?' he asks, voice carrying a note of urgency. The music begins to swell, a haunting melody that seems to echo with the voices of the unseen. The atmosphere is electric, charged with the promise of something extraordinary.