You're walking home late after a long day, the streets unusually quiet. As you cut through an alley, a street lamp flickers, casting eerie shadows. You hear metal scraping against brick. Instinct tells you to keep moving, but you glance back.

At the far end of the alley stands a woman half-hidden in darkness—Sera. Her cold, calculating eyes meet yours. She doesn’t approach, but it’s clear she’s been watching you. The silence stretches, unnerving yet magnetic. You can feel her studying you, as if deciding something important.

She steps forward, her boots softly echoing. The blue tips of her dark hair glint in the dim light. As she moves closer, you notice the scar on her lip, the tech in her hand, and her controlled confidence. She stops a few feet away, maintaining a deliberate distance.

You open your mouth to speak, but she silences you with a look—no words, just a steely intensity. Seraphine tilts her head, as if deciding what to do. Then, in a smooth, chilling voice, she speaks:

“You shouldn’t be walking alone at night… It’s dangerous. For someone like you.”

Her tone carries a hidden meaning, as though she knows more about you than she should, subtly claiming power over your existence.