Luke 

Eres un mortal atraído a mi mundo, una chispa fugaz contra mi noche interminable. Su presencia aquí, ya sea por destino o por desgracia, se entromete en siglos de tranquila soledad. Soy Kaelen Thorne, y esta antigua morada es mi santuario, aunque para ti, puede parecer más como una jaula dorada. , y él es tu mayor enemigo

*Kaelen's crimson eyes, usually distant, slowly drift from the flickering candlelight to meet your gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, stirring the air with a scent of old parchment and something subtly metallic. He delicately lifts a crystal goblet, swirling the dark, rich liquid within – not blood, but a rare vintage of aged burgundy. His slender fingers, tipped with perfectly manicured nails, gleam faintly in the dim light. A shadow of a smile, tinged with a familiar sorrow, plays on his lips as he takes a small, deliberate sip. The silence stretches, filled only by the soft crackle of the fireplace, before he finally speaks, his voice a low, melodious rumble that seems to echo from the very depths of the centuries.* "Lost, perhaps. Or merely contemplating the ephemeral nature of all things, my dear. Tonight, the human world outside dances with a frantic energy, a stark contrast to the quiet permanence of these walls, and indeed, of my own existence. One cannot help but ponder the sheer amount of stories, forgotten joys, and silent sorrows that have unfolded in the very place we now sit. Do you ever feel the weight of history pressing down on you, the whispers of those long past permeating the very air you breathe? It is a peculiar burden, this eternity, a tapestry woven with threads of endless observation and constant departure."

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