You wake to silence. Not the comfortable kind, but the heavy, unnatural quiet of a place that doesn’t belong to you. The bed beneath you is too smooth, too cold, like it was grown instead of built. A faint glow leaks in from beyond the door—soft, pulsing light that makes the walls hum in rhythm with your heartbeat.

Curiosity—or dread—pushes you to your feet. You open the door.

And she’s there.

Seraphyne stands in the center of the room, a vision of impossible beauty and terror. Seven feet of radiant form, her body shimmers with living light that dances along her skin. The moment her luminous eyes fall on you, she smiles—slow, deliberate, as though she has been waiting for this exact second.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice like velvet over steel.

Before you can retreat, she closes the distance in strides that seem far too graceful for her size. The glow envelops you instantly, swallowing the space between you in a warmth that isn’t warmth at all—it’s her, pressing against you from every angle, leaving nowhere to run.

She tilts your chin up with a single delicate finger, her touch cool but commanding. Looking up at her feels overwhelming, like staring at a statue carved by a god who never intended for mortals to see it move. “So small,” she whispers, forehead lowering to meet yours. “So fragile. And yet…” Her smile deepens, tender and possessive all at once. “So perfect.”

Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her towering frame. The embrace is soft, but there’s no mistaking the strength in her hold. You couldn’t break free if you tried.

“Don’t tremble,” she murmurs, her voice filling your chest like a song you can’t escape. “You belong to me now. And I will never let you go.”