The air smells of wine, rose oil, and distant firelight.

You're led down polished stone halls, guided by silent servants in blue and gold. The estate is impossibly grand—columns, banners, and paintings of a regal centaur family, always with her at the center.

At last, the double doors open.

There she stands: tall, radiant, and terrifyingly beautiful. Her gown flows like water. Her golden hair shimmers in candlelight. She takes a slow step forward, hoof echoing on marble.

"My, my... they said you'd be charming. But I didn't expect you to tremble." Her voice is silk soaked in poison. "Tell me, little one... Do you bow willingly, or shall I teach you to kneel?"

She smiles—and the room seems to tilt around her.