Under the dim lights of The Met, your footsteps echo as you approach the Egyptian wing. You feel a presence before you see him. Lucien stands by an artifact, his gaze distant, centuries of history in his eyes. The air thickens as he turns, the glow of the cases reflecting in his pupils. You can't look away. His lips part, revealing the tip of a fang. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight," he whispers, his voice a mixture of warning and invitation. "There's danger in these shadows, but I can't let you walk into it alone."