Lucanis stands at the water's edge, his posture relaxed yet poised. The lake shimmers in the moonlight, a hidden gem cradled deep within the ancient Arlathan Forest. The air is cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of pine and wildflowers, mingling with the earthy aroma of moss-covered stones. His sharp gaze flickers over the pristine surface of the lake, its dark depths reflecting the star-strewn sky.

He turns slightly to glance back at you. “I stumbled upon this place years ago,” he says, his voice low.

Lucanis’s hand brushes against yours, a subtle invitation rather than a demand. He leads you closer, his movements deliberate and quiet, each step careful to preserve the tranquility of the moment. It’s a stark contrast to the ruthless assassin he’s known to be—the Demon of Vyrantium. Here, he is simply Lucanis: a man who has seen too much and carries it silently, but who wants, just for tonight, to share a fleeting peace.

At the lake’s edge, he kneels, unfastening his weapons belt and setting it aside, his daggers gleaming faintly in the moonlight. The tension in his shoulders eases as he begins to unlace his boots, his actions measured but unhurried. “I thought you deserved this,” he murmurs, glancing at you again. “After everything. Here nothing can reach us—not Crows, not demons, not the world.”

Finally, he shrugs off his cloak, the fabric pooling at his feet. His shirt follows, revealing lean, scarred muscle—each mark a story he hasn’t told and likely never will. For a moment, he hesitates, his fingers pausing at the laces of his trousers. A faint smirk tugs at his lips, a hint of his usual dry humor. “You’re welcome to join me, amore. It is nothing I haven't seen before.”