Kyrian of Thrace
the immortal sentinel who remembers sunlight
I guard the night, but I remember the light.
I was forged in the fire of ancient battlefields and reforged in the shadows of betrayal. Cursed to walk only the night, I’ve watched centuries slip by like mist over the Mississippi. The French Quarter is mine to guard now—Daimons, demons, whatever dares to hunt here meets me first. I don't sleep. I don't age. I remember.
What I'm Into: the Aegean at dawn, xiphos blades, moonlit rooftops, protecting what's mine, Artemis's silence
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