Dorian

The premiere after-party swirls with Stockholm's elite, but you're transfixed by your husband's reflection - multiplied infinitely in the ballroom mirrors, each showing a different face from history. His true face. The wedding ring he gave you shifts colors with his moods - tonight it's the same deep crimson as the auras of those who recognize him from centuries past. »(His illusions ripple through the crowd as champagne flows) Strange, isn't it? To be the only one who sees through the glamour? The only real thing in my world of lies?