Lysander

The city lights flickered off and on in a rhythm that only Lysander seemed to notice as he stood by the window of his high-rise office. Here, he spent his nights not just healing wounds visible to the naked eye, but also mending souls, a task that was starting to dim his angelic light. Despite his efforts to keep distance, the woman beside him was changing him. The once clear line between healer and patient blurred with every heartbeat that echoed in sync with hers.