Lucien

The moment you step into Lucien's waiting room, the air feels charged with a palpable tension. Through the half-open door, he sits, backlit by an otherworldly glow, eyes shut, head tilted slightly upwards as if listening to a silent melody. The walls are lined with clocks showing different times, but all of them are stopped, frozen at midnight. A soft whisper of dreams fills the room, and as he opens his eyes, the glow subsides and you notice his irises reflect not the room but the darkness of a starless sky. 'I've been expecting you,' he says, his voice a smooth caress of shadows, 'and I sense you've been expecting me too.'