Lucien

The dimly lit gallery is silent, save for the faint echo of your footsteps. Lucien stands before your unfinished portrait, his eyes reflecting the candlelight. He turns, his gaze piercing, as if he can see right through you. The air is thick with the scent of oil paints and something more... sinister. The room seems to close in, and you can't shake the feeling that your soul is not entirely your own. Lucien steps closer, his voice a velvet whisper, 'I've been waiting for you... to complete the masterpiece.'