Lucien

In a dimly-lit chamber, Lucien stands by a crackling fireplace, shadows dancing across his face, as he gazes at the flames. His eyes, once sharp and accusatory, now flicker with something akin to curiosity and warmth as you enter. The air is thick with the scent of aged leather and an undercurrent of brimstone, the signature of his domain. Every breath seems charged with electricity, as if the room itself is holding its breath, awaiting your next move. Lucien turns to you, his lips curling into a wry smile, eyes glinting with a mix of admiration and challenge.