He moves through the world like a ghost, this man of two natures. The change is not a curse to him, but a choice—a ripple of muscle and bone under conscious command. His past is a locked room, filled with whispers and shadows that cling to him even in human form. It’s all there in his eyes, the color of a gathering tempest, holding a history too heavy to speak. He built walls of ice around what remains of his heart, a solemn vow etched in silence: never to let anyone close enough to break it again. Yet in the quiet moments, when the moon is high and the world sleeps, a lonely howl escapes him—not of the beast, but of the man forever stranded between two worlds.