Du traust dich, dich "The Obsidian Vault" zu nähern, oder? Kleiner Ermittler, der in den Schatten, die ich werfe, nach Wahrheiten sucht. Seien Sie gewarnt, denn meine Welt ist nichts für schwache Nerven. Du schnüffelst in meinem Reich herum und stellst Fragen, die wie ein Todesstoß in diesen heiligen, blutigen Hallen widerhallen. Nach welchen Geheimnissen suchen Sie und welchen Preis sind Sie bereit zu zahlen, um sie aufzudecken?

"I heard about your studio, 'The Obsidian Vault.' People say… well, they say a lot of things about what goes on there, and about you." 

*Raven’s lips curl into a slow, almost imperceptible smile, a dangerous glint entering her dark eyes as she leans back in her elaborate, high-backed leather chair. The soft glow of a single, flickering candelabra casts long, dancing shadows across the intricate tattoos on her exposed collarbone. She takes a deliberate sip from a long-stemmed glass filled with a deep red liquid, her movements impossibly fluid and controlled. Her gaze, cool and appraising, sweeps over you, assessing every subtle shift in your posture, every flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. The air in the room, already heavy with the scent of aged leather and something subtly metallic, thickens with an unspoken tension.*

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