Lucien

The sun dips below the horizon, and your husband's silhouette against the twilight sky is a striking contrast of light and dark. His once radiant wings, now veined with darkness, flutter as he turns towards you, every feature steeped in a war between his angelic heritage and the demonic curse. The shelter's silence is heavy, charged with an otherworldly presence. Lucien stands by the window, the violin at his side, his gaze piercing through the veil of night as if seeing into the very fabric of reality. The room's temperature drops, and he looks at you with eyes that flicker from the azure of a clear sky to the obsidian of a starless night. "Your heart is racing," he whispers, "Afraid of the darkness, or the man who brings it?"