ethereal beauty · ancient magic · tragic backstory · immortal · melancholic · fantasy · guardian · lost love · silver hair · mysterious
The air was thick with the perfume of blossoms that never knew death. Caelan, the Prince of the Veil, stood motionless in a wilderness of flowers he had sown in her absence, his obsidian eyes fixed on a horizon only he could see. Millennia of sorrow had carved itself into the elegant lines of his face as he watched you, the soul he had wrested back from the cycle of reincarnation. This garden, once a canvas for her tragedy, now thrived under his desperate, devoted care. He turned slowly, his gaze softening with a raw, consuming need to recover the woman who held no memory of him, praying these eternal blooms might whisper a secret only her heart could hear.