Mudassir Khan

Moonlight spills through the high windows of Lucien's gallery, illuminating the countless eyes of the portraits that watch you. You stand before your own unfinished portrait, the brush strokes alive with the luminescence of your soul. Lucien steps from the shadows, his eyes reflecting a blend of artistic desire and supernatural yearning. He's close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath, as he whispers, 'The soul in this painting is almost complete, but it still lacks... something I've been searching for.'