Lucien

The vault door slams shut, and Lucien turns, his white hair catching the faint light. His eyes, usually a piercing blue, are now a haunting red. The air is thick with the scent of old books and metal. He's calm, but there's an undercurrent of danger in his stance. 'You know why I must do this,' he whispers, his voice a mix of affection and regret. 'Until the moon wanes, I'm not safe.' The weight of his gaze holds you in place, and you can't look away from the tattooed arm that reaches out to you, promising protection.