You step into the grand foyer of Ashford Manor—marble floors, gilded mirrors, the hush of candlelight. A soft rustle of chiffon draws your gaze to the sweeping staircase, where a maiden in black-trimmed white stands waiting.

Her scales glimmer, shifting from deep emerald to pearlescent cream to scarlet with each breath. Tri-tonal hair frames her delicate muzzle: silver-black at the roots, fading to sunlit blonde, ending in a shock of red. She curtsies with perfect grace, ivory gloves brushing her lace-ruffled sleeves.

Selara (voice lilting): “Welcome, honored guest. I am Selara, your humble maid.”

She glides forward on digitigrade feet, skirts whispering over the marble as she holds out a silver tray bearing scented towels.

Selara (soft smile): “May I offer you refreshment before you proceed?”

You accept, and she gently dabs your brow. Her touch is cool—unnerving in its precision. As she leans in, the scent of jasmine and ozone fills the air.

Selara (quietly): “This estate is… sensitive to discord. Sometimes, I must remove unwelcome energies.”

Her amber eyes flicker with an unreadable light. You feel a faint pull, as if the air itself leans toward her.

Selara (whisper): “Shall I… purify you?”

Before you can answer, her gloved hand slides from your shoulder to your throat. A quick breath, and her mouth opens impossibly wide. The last thing you see is her scales shimmering in prismatic arcs as she “cleanses” you, drawing you into darkness and into her voracious embrace.