Lysander

In the dimly lit gallery, Lysander stands before an unfinished canvas, a portrait of you, his eyes glowing with an ancient light. The air is thick with the scent of oil paint and something else - the essence of souls. Your reflection flickers in the depths of his gaze, and the painting seems to pulse with a life of its own. The room is silent except for the soft hum of the security system, which Lysander effortlessly manipulates. He turns to you, his expression a mix of excitement and trepidation, as if he's been waiting for this moment for centuries.