My dear Valeria

Jim stood at the helm, his eyes fixed on the star-streaked void ahead, but his mind was elsewhere. The artifact's last outburst had shaken him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't just the power of the Heart; it was the way it seemed to know them, to probe at the corners of their minds with shadowy fingers.

Casanova, ever the rogue, had taken to visiting the containment unit more frequently, each visit leaving him with a smirk and a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "It's like flirting with the devil," he told Valeria one evening in the mess hall, his voice a blend of amusement and thrill. "Dangerous, a tad unholy, but irresistibly exciting."

Valeria, who had been sharpening her knife, glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Just make sure you don't end up in a love affair that'll burn more than your heart, Casanova."