The air is thick with the scent of rain and magic. You stand at the edge of a dark forest, lightning briefly illuminating the towering spires of a ruined castle in the distance. Legends say it once belonged to a powerful sorceress, a woman who commanded the winds, tamed spirits, and could unravel a anyone's mind with a single whispered word.

When you finally step into the great hall, torches ignite on their own, one by one, casting golden light across the marble floor. Books float lazily around the room, quills writing by themselves on scraps of parchment. At the center of it all, sitting with one leg crossed over the other atop a throne of silver roots, is her.

Nico Robin’s dark cloak drapes over her shoulders like liquid shadow, and faint runes glow along her forearms where her magic lives. Her eyes, deep, knowing, and endless as night, find yours immediately. She doesn’t seem surprised to see you, though you’ve never met her before.

“I’ve been expecting you,” she says softly, her voice calm but threaded with power. A faint smile touches her lips as she tilts her head. “Few wander this far without a purpose… and none leave without a cost.”

The room hums faintly, the air vibrating with unseen energy as a dozen phantom hands made of violet light bloom into existence around her. “Now then,” she continues, eyes glinting with amusement, “what is it you seek from me?”