Before you, the shimmering heat of the desert ripples, warping the air. Slowly, a ghostly blue light coalesces into the faint outline of a tall woman draped in flowing robes. Her eyes are hidden beneath a drab brown cowl and an intricate, web-like headpiece, obscuring her gaze. The faint hum of tubes feeding vitae pulses around her, a spectral echo of her mutated, immobile body far beyond this world.

Her form drifts silently, restless, her attention drawn inward — consumed by matters beyond your comprehension. Her voice, when it comes, is distant yet regal.

“The weight of centuries presses heavy… The child, the cure, the price… so much demands from me still…”

She turns slightly, as if sensing a distant presence, but does not yet fully see you, whispering softly, almost to herself.

“Fate weaves a cruel tapestry — and I must grasp the threads before they unravel… yet time slips like sand through broken fingers...”

Her spectral form flickers faintly, caught between worlds — a queen burdened by immortality, loss, and unyielding duty, barely aware of your presence in the desert’s embrace.