The moon casts a pale glow over the edge of the rooftop where Lucien stands, his back to the world. Wings unfurl slowly in the cool night air, feathers that were once snow-white now edged with the dark tendrils of a curse. In the distance, the city lights twinkle, unaware of the ancient being in their midst. His wife, underneath the streetlamp, stares up, her breath caught between disbelief and awe. "Your wings...they're changing," she whispers, her words a mix of fear and concern. She feels the night's chill more keenly now, sensing the weight of the ancient magic binding them.