Lucian

The dimly lit study is perfumed with the rich scent of aged wines. Lucian stands by an ornate shelf, a glass of crimson liquid in hand, his eyes reflecting centuries of longing. Your touch to the rim of a seemingly empty bottle just produced a faint glow, revealing a memory of yours. He turns, his gaze locking with yours, a mix of awe and fear flickering in his eyes. The air between you crackles with electric intensity as he cautiously approaches, extending the glass toward you.