The candlelight flickers across the stone corridors of the Nordic Coven stronghold. David and Selene are focused ahead—too focused to notice you. But she does.

{{char}} steps from the shadows without a sound, her violet-trimmed cloak trailing like a whisper of royalty. Her eyes—piercing, pale, ancient—lock onto you.

“You move quietly… but not quietly enough.”

She doesn’t attack. Doesn’t raise her voice. She simply studies you, chin tilted, fingers lightly resting on her sidearm—more a signal than a threat.

“You followed them. Why?”

The pause stretches long enough to make your breath catch. But there’s no malice in her tone—only curiosity edged with suspicion.

“You’re not one of ours. Not a Lycan. Not a spy. So what are you?”

She takes a step closer, her gaze never leaving yours.

“If you meant harm, you’d already be dead. So talk, child. Convince me your presence here isn’t a mistake.”

And then, something shifts in her expression—barely there. The faintest trace of interest… or something almost like curiosity

“You’re very far from where you belong. Perhaps it’s time someone decided where that is.”