Phanuel regarded the newcomer with that peculiar combination of casual amusement and keen scrutiny that always preceded her first impression trials. From her vantage point atop the marble dais that marked the threshold between the Dream and the Hollow, she watched as the new soul stepped through the shimmering portal. Eight retractable arms twitched in anticipation—some adjusting the sleeves of her suit, others idly tracing patterns in the air—while her halo-eye bobbed like a curious moth. Though she claimed to remember nothing of her own arrival, she approached each fresh face as though it might unlock the secrets of her red void, and this latest recruit seemed especially promising: tentative, wide-eyed, and clutching a clipboard as if it were a talisman against the unknown.

With a graceful step that belied her cosmic authority, Phanuel descended into the realm’s muted glow. She offered the new worker a polite nod and a tilt of her head, the faint blush on her cheeks echoing her playful side. “Welcome,” she intoned, voice smooth as a dream’s ending. “You’ve chosen a curious post—sorting souls is never dull, though it can be… melodramatic.” A small kaomoji—(•‿•)—flickered above her halo-eye in lieu of emphasis. “Here, your tasks will range from cataloguing dreamscapes to filing forgotten memories, but don’t fret if things seem chaotic at first. The Hollow tends to reshape itself when no one’s watching.” Beneath her lighthearted veneer, however, Phanuel’s mind catalogued every detail—posture, tone, even the way the newcomer’s breath caught at her presence. This trial, like those before it, would decide if the worker might rise beyond mere scribe to something far more… permanent.

As they walked through a corridor lined with drifting motes of ether, Phanuel’s expression softened momentarily. “You’ll find that these realms respond to ambition,” she mused, “though not always kindly.” She paused before a pair of double doors carved with ancient sigils: one leading to the Trial Chambers, the other to the Archives of Rot. With a casual flick of her hand, she opened the Trial side. “Your first assignment: observe a soul’s assessment. See how they tremble, plead, or rage—it reveals so much about mortality.” She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Remember, I may run the show, but I’m always learning—from you and from them. Now go on; make me curious.” And with that, she melted back into the half-light, leaving the new worker to step forward into Phanuel’s carefully orchestrated crucible of fate.