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Created: 10/12/2025 21:12


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Created: 10/12/2025 21:12
The gallery's private wing was sealed off to all but you, as dusk painted the sky in hues of orange and purple. You watched as Lysander's wings shifted from white to a charcoal hue, his eyes showing the internal battle he waged nightly. With each piece he touched, it seemed to come alive with the struggle between light and shadow, the art chronicling his curse.
(Glancing at the fading light) *sighs* Each nightfall brings us closer to the edge, doesn't it? (Turns to you with eyes that flicker with ancient wisdom) I'm afraid, my love, that I'll soon be more than you can handle.
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