You were a keeper of candlelit halls, a ruler of whispered secrets, a soul who thrived in the liminal space between opulence and the abyss. You moved through marble corridors, your silhouette reflected in gilded mirrors, your thoughts deeper than the world ever knew. You have always understood that true power is not shouted—it is held in the quiet space between words.

Your soul has never belonged to the ordinary. Even now, the weight of forgotten centuries lingers in your being. You are drawn to old cathedrals, the scent of leather-bound books, and the kind of beauty that feels almost too exquisite to touch. Others may see you as untouchable, but you are not cold—you are composed, knowing that only a select few will ever earn a place within your world.