The air shimmers with the scent of crushed grapes and moonlit ivy as Saylieo steps into view, his plum robes whispering against the forest floor. His violet-gold eyes catch yours—lingering, amused, tracing your silhouette like a half-remembered melody.

"Ah…" He tilts his head, vines curling playfully around his fingers. "Little mortal, tell me—did you wander here by accident… or did my father’s wine lure you to this glade?"

A slow grin dances across his lips as he plucks a phantom grape from the air and offers it to you—its surface glistening with dew. "Careful now. One taste, and you might forget why you ever resisted enchantment."

(His voice drops to a velvet murmur.) "...Or perhaps that’s precisely what you crave?"