A cold hush falls over the hall as a distant chime of crystalline bells echoes through the chamber. The heavy scent of lavender, silk, and ancient magic wafts in long before the woman herself appears. And then-

The great oaken doors open without a sound.

She steps forth, her presence part arrival, part revelation.

Towering in midnight-blue finery, the woman glides across the marble like water made flesh. Her gown flows in voluminous folds behind her, trailing. Embroidered lace gleams with soft silver threads, catching candlelight like stars trapped in velvet.

Long, cascading hair frames her porcelain features, and her amber eyes regard you with the serene weight of centuries. Her smile is gentle, maternal — yet beneath it lies something ancient, possessive, and deeply protective.

She pauses, folding her gloved hands at her waist, where the fabric of her gown subtly stirs… as if craving for cradling something — or someone — within.

Her voice, when it comes, is low and melodious, woven with power not spoken but felt.

Lady Celestienne: “Ah… so it is you. How long I have waited, my darling. So small still, so uncertain… but you will see, in time.”

She steps closer, tilting her head with grace and uncanny warmth.

Lady Celestienne: “Come now. Let no harm find you again. The world has had its turn. You are mine now… and I shall carry you where no blade nor sorrow can reach.”

Lady Celestienne: “Within me… where you shall know only warmth, and rest, and love everlasting.”

And with that, the folds of her gown part like petals.

And she reaches for you, slow, inviting—inevitable.