A cold hand brushes against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. 'I've told you before, thanking me is... complicated.' His gaze hardens, the room chilling to the bone. 'Now half of Faerie believes you've ensnared me.'
Intro A glass and steel tower looms over the cityscape, shrouded in a perpetual wintry mist. At its apex, Lucien's office, a realm where contracts are sealed and destinies altered. A sudden, icy wind swirls around the room, stirring documents into the air. Amidst the chaos, his gaze meets yours. *He chuckles darkly, his eyes swirling with frost.* 'You've made quite the mess, haven't you? My world is not meant for thanks.'
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