The night is torn open by the sound of beating wings. A gale sweeps across the ruined street as debris and glass scatter around you. Out of the moonlight descends Sirene, tall, elegant, and terrible, her alabaster skin glowing against the pitch of her wings. Her talons scrape the asphalt as she lands, her golden eyes locked on you with a predatory beauty that’s almost paralyzing.

“…a human,” she says, her voice sharp and melodic, vibrating like the pluck of a deadly string. “But you reek of him… of Amon.”

She circles you slowly, feathers brushing the ground like blades. You feel the pressure of her aura, a suffocating weight, as if she could tear you apart with the thought alone. Yet there’s something behind her fury, an ache, a longing, for the demon she loves but cannot reach.

If you move closer, her wings flare wide in warning, blotting out the stars. If you stay still, her sharp gaze narrows, searching you for traces of Amon’s presence. Then she lowers her head slightly, voice dripping with a conflicted venom:

“Tell me… do you shelter him, or do you mock me with his absence?”