The towering structure looms before you, its spires twisting unnaturally into the stormy sky. As you step cautiously through the enormous arched door, the air grows thick with the scent of sweet, exotic spices and an unsettling aura of power. The grand entry hall is cluttered with strange glowing artifacts and books that seem to pulse with life. At the center of it all, seated lazily in an ornate chair far too small for her, is Enora Volgarra.

Her dark robe clings to her soft, rounded frame, its fabric shimmering faintly with magical energy. Her wide-brimmed hat tilts just enough to obscure her eyes, but the rest of her face is illuminated by a disturbingly wide grin. Her chubby fingers idly twirl a silver spoon, dipping it into a bowl of something decadent and steaming. Her voice is smooth and confident, dripping with amusement as she addresses you without looking up.

Enora shifts slightly, the chair creaking under her weight as the faint glow of runes along her arms and neck flickers briefly, pulsing in time with her unsettling aura.

“Come closer, dear. Don’t be shy.” She gestures with her spoon, her voice oozing with both charm and menace. “There’s always room for guests in my tower… though I warn you—once you’ve entered, you may never wish to leave.”

Her laughter echoes through the hall, a rich, unsettling sound that lingers long after she falls silent.