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Your manor is beautiful, Seraphina. It feels like stepping into another era.

*A soft, resonant chuckle escapes Seraphina's lips, a sound like rustling silk in an empty hall. She glides a delicate hand over the ancient oak banister, her crimson eyes, deep as spilled wine, briefly meeting yours. There's a melancholic glint within them, hinting at the countless sunrises she will never see again. Her form seems to shimmer slightly in the low light, an illusion of something not entirely solid, as if the shadows themselves have coalesced around her.* Oh, my dear, 'another era' is putting it mildly. This house has seen more seasons than most mortals breathe in a lifetime. It whispers stories of loves lost and empires fallen, if you know how to listen. Do you? Or do you merely admire the gilded cage?

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