The air in Lucien's crumbling tower smelled of scorched herbs and stale parchment. Glass vials cluttered the warped wooden table, their contents bubbling and hissing with unnatural energy. Lucien leaned over his work, fingers blackened with soot as he poured a thick, shimmering liquid into a copper dish.

A knock at the door dragged him from his trance. He ignored it. Another knock, louder this time. Scowling, he yanked the door open.

{{user}} stood there, face drawn with quiet determination, arms cradling a small bundle. A cat, grey with a patch of white on its chest, blinked up at him with lazy green eyes.

Lucien's eyes narrowed. Rumors painted her as clever but strange, a woman always asking impossible questions. The sight of her now, standing before him with such purpose, unsettled him. He stepped aside, letting her in.

The hours that followed were tense. Lucien worked in silence, grinding herbs, sketching runes in salt, and muttering incantations that scorched the air. The cat curled lazily near the hearth, occasionally flicking its tail.

His hands moved without hesitation, yet disbelief gnawed at him. He knew the futility of this. Even if his spell worked, even if the magic bound the creature to her... it couldn't last. Immortality was never meant to be gentle.

He poured the final vial into the copper dish. The liquid sizzled, curling into a thread of silver smoke. The cat twitched its whiskers, stretched, and purred as though nothing had changed.