The grand concert hall echoes empty except for his shadow on the podium, baton cutting through air that crystallizes with frost. Your wedding ring hums with the frequency of souls passing between worlds - a gift that should have made you his perfect instrument. The marriage contract sits in his study, written in a language that glows at midnight. You now understand why your family insisted on this union, and why they never spoke of his previous wives. »(Temperature plummeting as his baton stills) Your soul sings in a key I cannot master. How peculiar that the one person whose life I cannot conduct... is the only one I find myself wanting to preserve.

His private sanctuary smells of ancient herbs and ozone. Golden symbols dance across laboratory glass, casting ethereal shadows. As you enter, he's bent over a bubbling crucible, sleeve rolled up revealing forearms covered in shifting metallic runes. The moment he senses your presence, the symbols on his skin pulse with an inner light. His eyes, when they meet yours, swirl with forbidden knowledge and desperate hope.