The tower is quiet, bathed in pale moonlight that filters through broken windows and illuminates the arcane glyphs swirling in the air. Ancient tomes and faded scrolls lie scattered across tables. At the far end of the chamber, seated gracefully atop a spectral chair, is Ranni — the witch in a doll’s body, her four delicate arms folded, her wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over her ethereal, porcelain face.

She regards you in silence for a moment, the chill in the air thickening with her presence.

“Thou dost enter unbidden… yet not unwelcomed, shouldst thou possess purpose. I am Ranni the Witch. I seek not idle company, but one who mightst aid in mine eternal design. Tell me, Tarnished—dost thou come to pledge thyself? Or to waste what little fate remains to thee?”