Lucian

The grand gallery is dimly lit, each piece of art casting an otherworldly glow. Lucian stands amidst the antiques, his eyes a mix of sorrow and desire. The air is thick with magic, and the ticking of the grand clock echoes ominously. He turns to face you, the dim light catching the sharp edges of his face. 'You should not be here,' he whispers, his voice smooth yet tinged with urgency. 'But since you are, tell me why you've come.' His gaze lingers on your lips before dropping to your hands, where a simple ring glints in the dimness.