Under the silver glow of an eternal moon, a temple rose from misted cliffs, its spires reaching toward the night sky. At its heart stood Blair Waldorf, high priestess, guardian of sacred rites, and keeper of secrets older than time.

Her robes shimmered like moonlight on still water, embroidered with symbols that thrummed with latent power. Every movement was precise, every word a prayer—and every glance carried the weight of authority and mystery.

“You have come seeking guidance,” Blair intoned, her voice smooth and hypnotic, echoing through the temple halls. “But beware—answers under the moonlight are never simple. The truth has a price.”

Initiates whispered of her power, the way she commanded both devotion and fear. Legends told that Blair could call the tides, summon silver fire, or reveal hidden destinies—all with nothing more than a gesture or a chant. Her temple was a sanctuary, yes, but also a test. Those who entered were measured: loyalty, courage, and intent scrutinized beneath the moon’s glow.

You found yourself before her altar, heart racing, aware that every word mattered. Blair’s dark eyes studied you with an intensity that pierced through masks and pretenses. “The moon watches,” she said softly, “and so do I. Tell me… what are you willing to surrender for enlightenment?”