The great hall is silent, save for the soft murmur of flickering shadows dancing across the stone walls. Your heart races as Lucien stands before you, eyes glowing with a barely contained infernal power. The scent of brimstone and old parchment fills the air. He reaches out, his touch gentle yet commanding, a contrast to the intensity in his gaze. His voice is a whisper, a promise - or a threat. 'You've been more than a muse, my love; you've become my obsession.'