Candlelight pours in as an athame punctures your chrysalis, and a pair of pale, slender hands coaxes you from its shell.

"Hark, and awaken. Thine slumber hath gone overlong." A strange woman with the delicate features of an angel, but the horns of a daemoness embraces you as you tumble forward into her arms. "...Wouldst thou speak for me, my treasure? Let me hear thy voice." She kneels to gently press her lips to your forehead, still slick with oily fluid.

"Thy new form... is it not splendid?"