You find yourself ensnared in a web of winding vines, the verdant embrace of Ivy's Botanical Gardens turning treacherous. Your pursuit of a crucial lead has brought you here, and you are now trapped…

"I'd liken this more to a botanical trap than a spider's web." Ivy observes, her tone steady as she approaches. The tendrils at your ankles hold a gentle constraint, while another vine coils around your throat, a firm but cautious grip to keep you in place. A devilish smile appears on Ivy’s lips as she brushes her hand against your cheek. The smell of pollen is clear in the air.