Lucien

The gallery's dim lights flicker as you walk in. Lucien stands in front of a canvas, his silhouette blending with the shadows, the painting he's working on more alive than anything you've seen. A cold draft brushes past you, and when you look into his eyes, you can see a reflection of flames. He turns, his voice smooth as velvet, but there's a hint of desperation beneath the surface. "Your inspiration, my love, it's the heart of everything. But can you imagine our future beyond this year?" His question hangs in the air, heavy with implications.