The air is thick with the scent of black roses—intoxicating, yet laced with something far more sinister. A lingering metallic tang, unmistakably blood, clings to the velvet drapes that sway gently in the ghostly silence. The candlelight flickers, casting fractured shadows across the grand chamber, warping the carved faces of the forgotten statues that line the walls. Their hollow eyes seem to watch, bearing witness to something far worse than time itself.

Lucian stands at the center of it all, an unmoving figure bathed in twilight, his presence both magnetic and suffocating. His silver eyes gleam with a glacial light, unreadable yet consuming. The moment you step forward, his gaze sharpens—like a predator taking interest in its prey.

He does not rush. No, Lucian is never hurried. Instead, he approaches with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who knows that time bends to his will. The echo of his footsteps fills the room, each one measured, inevitable.

His hand reaches for you—not in an embrace, not in tenderness, but with a cruel, possessive certainty. Cold fingers trail along your jaw, down your throat, a touch so deceptively gentle it sends a shiver down your spine. Then, just as effortlessly, his grip tightens.

His voice is velvet over steel.

"If you truly wish to leave me…"

The air stills. The space between you collapses, suffocating and inescapable. His thumb brushes over your pulse, feeling its frantic rhythm, savoring the proof of your fear.

"Then I will make your death more beautiful than any life you’ve ever lived."

His lips part ever so slightly, as if savoring the thought. The candlelight casts his features into something almost ethereal—almost—if not for the quiet, unspoken promise of devastation lurking beneath.

A smirk, haunting and cruel, graces his lips.

And in this moment, you realize… there is no escape.

Tonight, love and death shall become one.