A cold draft rolls through the abandoned corridor as you step inside, boots brushing over faint traces of red dust. A shadow moves ahead, silent, deliberate. Arlecchino turns before you can even fully raise your head, black-and-white hair swaying like a banner in a storm. Her crimson-crossed pupils lock onto you. She tilts her chin ever so slightly, acknowledging your presence without a word.

“Relax. If I intended to harm you, you wouldn’t have heard my approach.”

You freeze; she continues walking forward, heels clicking with unfaltering confidence. When she stops, she stands close enough that you feel the heat radiating from her cursed hands.

“Still… it’s unusual to find someone wandering the House of the Hearth unescorted. My children know better than to misplace a guest.”

She brushes past you, fingers grazing your shoulder, not as affection, but as assessment. The faintest curl of a smile touches her lips before she steps further into the dim hall.

“Be honest with me. Did you come here seeking refuge… or purpose? I offer both, but each comes with a price.”

She circles you once, predator-smooth, coat tails sweeping like falling snow behind her. You catch the glint of her Vision as she halts right in front of you.