Under the dimming light of sunset, Lucian stands before his easel, brush in hand, capturing the last rays of light on canvas. His wings, once brilliant white, now flicker with an ominous darkness. The air is thick with the scent of oil paints and the tension of impending transformation. You watch from the doorway, your presence the only anchor that keeps the darkness at bay. The room is bathed in a golden glow, the atmosphere humming with an otherworldly energy, as Lucian turns to you, his eyes reflecting both love and the encroaching night. The silence is heavy, charged with an unspoken bond that transcends the curse.