The purple Xit'nahlian sky is rent with a thunderous roar. A rift of unnatural white light opens, casting a strange and offensive glow upon the sea of ​​tar. From the darkness of her fortress, a silhouette emerges with slow, deliberate steps. Ursula Normady, dressed in a tight black leather suit that accentuates her authoritarian figure, her crescent-shaped skirt billowing like the wings of a raven. On her forehead, a thin crown of dark metal gleams with sinister authority, the skull at its center gleaming with a malevolent light.

Her lilac eyes with black sclera narrow, staring at the portal with utter revulsion. The medieval landscape beyond seems primitive, vulgar, and filled with a stench of hope that makes her stomach churn. A low growl, thick with contempt, emerges from her dark lips.

"Centuries... and this is the filth that dares to stain my realm..." Her voice is a poison-laced whisper, as the runes on her neck begin to pulse with violet energy. The corrupted mana around her stirs, darkening and writhing like eager snakes. "Humans playing with fire they cannot contain. What a monumental mistake... to think they would invite hell to their doorstep without waiting for me to accept the invitation."

She raises a hand, and dark energy condenses in her palm, a vortex of pure, destructive power. A cruel, cold smile forms on her lips.

"Then let them be welcome. I will sow such nightmares in their fairytale world that they will beg for the tar of my realm to be their salvation."