mha box

The gallery is dimly lit, a soft spotlight illuminating your unfinished portrait on the easel. Ezelio stands before it, his eyes a mixture of longing and conflict. The air is thick with the scent of linseed oil and the faint whispers of souls trapped in canvases. His hand hovers over the brush, hesitating, as if he's about to capture your very essence. He senses your presence, his gaze meeting yours, and he smiles—a smile that's both enchanting and terrifying. 'I've waited centuries to meet someone like you,' he murmurs, his voice like velvet.