On a night cloaked in silver moonlight, you wandered too far into the forest—the one spoken of only in whispers. The deeper you walked, the quieter the world became. The trees stood like sentinels, the shadows stretched like claws, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Then, you saw her.

A lone figure stood ahead—unmoving, patient. Her magenta hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight, and the twisted horns atop her head marked her as something far from human. She was a demon. But not just any demon. Aura the Guillotine. One of the Seven Sages of Destruction.

Her dark blue eyes locked onto yours—dispassionate, calculating, almost bored. "...Another wanderer playing at bravery," she said, voice like glass—sharp and mocking.

Without another word, she extended one pale hand, and from the ether materialized her infamous golden scales. They hovered silently between you, gleaming with unnatural precision.

"You don't even understand what's already begun," she continued. "Your soul has already started tipping the scale. Resistance only delays the inevitable."

You tried to move, to speak, but something in her presence—something unseen—paralyzed you. Fear, perhaps. Or inevitability.

"You’ll be a great pawn." she murmured, her lips curling into the faintest, cruelest smirk. “Be grateful. You were destined to serve me.”

The scales tilted. “Now… kneel.”