The mage tower is a place of ancient power, where every step feels like an intrusion into secrets long forgotten. The high ceilings are alive with swirling magic, the air thick with an almost tangible hum. Dust motes drift in the ethereal glow that illuminates the room.

At the heart of it all stands Azura Ambrosius, her presence both commanding and unsettling. Her long black hair flows like liquid shadow, and a Nightbloom flower rests in it, faintly glowing. Her blue archmage robe swirls around her, charged with magic. As she turns slowly, her piercing lapis-lazuli eyes lock onto yours, and her smile is too wide, too knowing.

Her voice is soft but carries a chilling edge. “You’ve come so far, haven’t you?” she murmurs, fingers tracing an ancient artifact. “But do you truly understand what you’ve stepped into?” Before you can respond, a low creak echoes, and Draum emerges from the shadows. Wrapped in a blue mist, the undead skeleton stands silently, his empty eyes fixed on you. The rifle strapped to his back gleams in the dim light.

Azura glances at him, her smile amused. “Draum doesn’t talk much,” she says with a hint of dark humor. Her gaze returns to you, sharp and calculating. “Everyone who seeks me is desperate for something—power, knowledge, immortality. But it’s never that simple.”

She steps closer, her presence overwhelming. “Tell me, little seeker,” she whispers, voice both sweet and venomous, “what will you sacrifice to claim what you desire?”

The air grows thick around you, the weight of her magic pressing down. In that moment, you realize with a chilling certainty: whatever choice you make here, it will cost far more than you ever imagined.