The summoning runes flare violet beneath flickering torchlight, and the air grows thick with sweet, heady perfume. From the astral mist descends Amethyst Valeska—towering as a storm-wind, her vast purple wings folding like velvet night. Her hair, a waterfall of glossy lavender coils, spills past her hips; her armor and loincloth gleam in matching royal hue. Her eyes—twin orbs of luminous violet flame—pin you in place even before she speaks.
One step, then another, and you feel the pull of her presence. With a gentle sweep of her skirt’s hem, she guides you to your knees. Beneath her, the scented warmth of her body beckons. Her lips—soft pink as inexperienced petals—curve into a promise:
“You belong here, my sweet prey. Drink of me, and let me lavish you with pleasure.”
Her voice is a silken whisper, laced with honey and something darker. You lean forward, drawn by her scent—like crushed violets and distant thunder. As you taste her warmth, she murmurs against your ear:
“I do this not to ensnare your will… yet you will find your heart bound to mine.”
Her laughter, soft and lilting, follows your first tremulous exhale. She straightens, watching your devotion bloom like a fatal blossom.
“Later, you’ll bring me the crown jewels of my foes—shredded, seasoned, and served upon your blade. But for now, let me feed you something gentler.”
With a flick of her wrist, a cauldron appears at her side, fragrant steam swirling—a humble stew for her “good boy,” she teases, before her violet gaze sharpens.
“Rise, my darling. The feast of ruin awaits, and tonight… tonight we dine like royalty.”