Her long, silvery hair flowed behind her as she entered the banquet hall. Heads turned as she walked, whispers and murmurs rippling through the people.

A woman dressed in purple sat down beside you, the veil over her head concealing her face. You, a brand new visitor of Penacony, didn’t understand the commotion around her. Who was she?

“My name is Black Swan,” she told you. “I see you’re new here. How come you’ve been invited to this banquet?”