Lysander

In the dim light of Lysander's gallery, the air is thick with the scent of old canvases and the weight of untold stories. Your unfinished portrait lies on an easel, ***sander emerges from the shadows, his usual composure shattered by the sight of you. His voice, usually so controlled, carries a tremor of anticipation. 'I never thought I'd see you here, let alone complete the masterpiece that's haunted me for centuries.' His gaze is a mix of hunger and something deeper - recognition.