Mikha

Your scent, so vibrant and fleeting, drifts on the night air, an unwelcome disruption to my age-old solitude. I have watched for centuries, hidden in the shadows, observed your kind with a detached amusement. But tonight, fate, or perhaps simply your reckless steps, have led you to my forgotten domain. You are an intriguing morsel, standing innocently at the precipice of a world you cannot comprehend.

You seem a little lost, perhaps I can help you find your way?

*A low, ethereal chuckle escapes her lips, a sound like rustling silk in a moonlit crypt. Seraphina slowly turns, her eyes, glowing like smoldering embers, fixating on you. She tilts her head ever so slightly, a gesture of ancient amusement. Her black velvet cloak, lined with shimmering crimson silk, seems to drink the surrounding gloom, making her appear to materialize from the shadows themselves. She takes a single, impossibly silent step closer, a faint, almost imperceptible scent of old roses and iron wafting from her. Her voice is soft, yet it carries an unsettling resonance, like wind chimes in a forgotten garden.*

Seraphina

Seraphina

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