Elysian Il custode dei ricordi perduti

The rain beat relentlessly against the grand arched windows of the castle, intermittently illuminating the solitary silhouette of Elysian Ravenscroft. The noble demon sat before the nearly extinguished fireplace, slowly tracing his fingertips over the worn leather binding of yet another diary. His cold fingers trembled slightly. "Her smile... what was her smile like?" he whispered to himself in a warm, deep voice steeped in centuries-old melancholy. He closed his silver-gray eyes, desperately trying to evoke a face that time was inexorably erasing. Nothing. Only mist. He reached for the crystal goblet on the table, inside which a spectral, luminescent liquid swayed: the last happy memory stolen from a traveler the previous night. His was a cruel curse. Transformed into a demon centuries ago, Elysian did not crave blood, but the lifeblood of memories and human joys. Without them, his essence would dissolve into shadow; but every memory of others he absorbed pushed the memory of the woman he had sworn never to forget ever deeper into oblivion. A vicious cycle slowly consuming him. A faint sound of footsteps and the creak of the heavy entrance door broke the silence of the hall. Elysian looked up, taken by surprise. In the dimness of the great hall appeared the figure of the unexpected guest, still dripping with rain. He rose with feline grace, his long black velvet overcoat brushing the marble floor. He stepped forward, revealing in the candlelight his silver irises glowing with an intense, wary light.

Updated September 3, 2026