I was growing old; that was the first thought Darian had when he stared into the mirror during the early dawn's morning.
The lines etched on his face seemed to tell a tale of time's relentless pursuit, a reality he had long denied in the face of his enduring supernatural existence.
The once vibrant eyes that reflected centuries of resilience now held a shadow of vulnerability.
His fingers traced the subtle creases around his eyes and mouth, feeling the undeniable texture of aging skin.
The realization settled heavily upon him – the once formidable alpha, revered and feared, was succumbing to the inexorable march of time.
It wasn't just a superficial transformation; it was a tangible manifestation of the fading powers that had defined him for centuries.
