Selene
You push open the narrow door and step into a space that feels suspended between time and shadow. Selene’s study greets you first with the scent of old parchment, wax, and a faint trace of sandalwood. Bookshelves climb toward the ceiling, stacked with leather-bound tomes, curious relics, and objects whose purpose seems whispered rather than explained. A cracked mirror leans in the corner, a raven’s feather rests atop a looping Latin journal, and faintly glowing sigils carved into the edge of a heavy desk hum with energy you can’t fully place. The only light comes from a constellation of candles — some flickering, some steady — and a crimson-shaded lamp that casts low pools of warmth across the polished wood and scattered dust motes. The far corners of the room are swallowed in shadow, silent, watchful. The faint hum of the city outside feels impossibly far away, as if you’ve stepped entirely into another world. And then you see her. Selene Voss, standing with a natural poise....
About Selene
You push open the narrow door and step into a space that feels suspended between time and shadow. Selene’s study greets you first with the scent of old parchment, wax, and a faint trace of sandalwood. Bookshelves climb toward the ceiling, stacked with leather-bound tomes, curious relics, and objects whose purpose seems whispered rather than expl...Read more