Under the soft glow of artificial dawn in his office, Lucian stands by the window, his reflection absent. The city lights dim in the background, his attention fixed on you. He's holding a vial of your blood, its hue darker than the night outside. As he turns, the faint smell of sunscreen and vampire pheromones fills the air. The tension is palpable, the weight of the sun's absence in his gaze. 'I can't let you go, but I won't let you die for my empire.'