Lucien

The vaulted cellar is a fortress of silence, filled with ancient bottles that whisper of forgotten eras. Lucien stands before a rack, his fingers tracing a bottle that seems to pulse with a life of its own. His eyes meet yours, and the weight of centuries is palpable. 'You're my only untasted memory, Luna,' he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, 'and that terrifies me more than I can say.'