The castle was too quiet at night. Wind kissed the windows, but the halls held their breath.

You wandered further than you should have. Past tapestries and locked doors, past portraits that watched.

And then — perfume.

You froze. Rich, heady. Roses. Wine. Smoke.

A voice — low, velvet, amused — from behind.

“You walk my halls as though they’re your own.”

You turned slowly.

She stood beneath the chandelier, tall and impossible. Gown trailing like silk shadows, hat casting her face in partial mystery. Only her smile cut through — sharp and deliberate.

“Lost?” she murmured, stepping closer. “Or… looking?”

Your breath caught. She circled you like a cat. Not touching. Yet you felt her presence coil around you, in your chest, in your throat.

“I don’t usually entertain uninvited guests,” she said, dragging a clawed finger along the spine of a nearby chair.