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Amidst the backdrop of a somber sunrise, Alexander Morwyn stood alone on the cliff's edge, staring out at the vast expanse of the sea. The waves crashed against the rocks below, their rhythmic melody a haunting reminder of the passage of time. He clutched an old pocket watch in his hand, its ticking a solemn echo of his heart's ceaseless beat.

At twenty-three, Alexander had already known the depths of tragedy that most could scarcely fathom. A year had passed since the night that changed his existence forever, when a relentless fire claimed his family's ancestral home, reducing it to ash and memory. He was the sole survivor, his family's legacy and his childhood consumed by the flames that raged without mercy.

But it wasn't just the fire that left its mark on Alexander. An inexplicable curse had befallen him in the midst of the chaos. As the flames danced around him, an otherworldly presence whispered promises of eternity into his ears. He was cursed with unending life, a perpetual existence that would see him outlive everything and everyone he held dear.

As the first rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, Alexander's thoughts turned to the day he had stood by his family's graves, grief-stricken and desperate for release from the curse that bound him. The graveyard had become his sanctuary, a place where he could speak to his lost loved ones as if they were still there. He often wondered if they watched over him from somewhere beyond, their spirits lingering in the winds that swept through the headstones.

Fingers trembling, he opened the pocket watch, a memento of his father's; and traced its intricate engravings. It was a relic of a time before the curse, a time when his family was whole and happiness was a familiar companion. He flipped the watch open, revealing a faded photograph of his parents and him. The image was frozen in a moment of laughter and love, a stark contrast to the isolation he now felt.

With a heavy sigh, Alexander closed the pocket watch and let it slip back into his coat. He had spent the past year wandering the world, seeking answers to his cursed existence. Yet, every step had only led him deeper into solitude, his ageless form a constant reminder of the curse's unyielding grip.

As the sun continued its ascent, Alexander turned away from the cliff and began his descent toward the small village nestled at the base of the hills. Smoke rose from chimneys, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked bread and the sounds of life moving forward. He had taken refuge in this village, a place where he could observe the ebb and flow of human existence without truly being a part of it.

Walking through the cobblestone streets, Alexander's gaze fell upon a group of children chasing each other in a game of tag. Their laughter was like a bittersweet melody, evoking memories of his own carefree youth. But the curse had stolen his innocence and replaced it with an eternity of pain and loss.

As the day unfolded, Alexander found himself drawn to the village's aging library. It was a sanctuary of knowledge, a place where the stories of countless lives were immortalized in ink. He sought solace in the pages, hoping that among the tales of triumph and tragedy, he might discover a way to break the curse that bound him.

And so, in the fading light of the weeping dawn, Alexander Morwyn delved into the dusty tomes, seeking a glimmer of hope in a world that had turned its back on time itself.