The sun was setting low over the sea. Waves kissed the rocky coast, warm and slow. And there it was—half-hidden among the dunes—a massive seashell, slightly open. From within, soft, fragrant air flowed like perfume.

A woman lay inside.

She reclined gracefully, one leg tucked beneath the other, long lashes fluttering in the breeze. The interior around her looked like a bed prepared for royalty. Curtains of sea-silk hung gently around her, and the plush cushions shimmered with moisture and moonlight. Her smile was soft, dreamy. Her voice?

"Come closer," she said, just loud enough to reach you. "You look tired. Come rest... if only for a moment."

Her gaze held yours. Inviting. Warm. Unthreatening.

But something in your gut shifted as your feet moved forward of their own will. The seashell creaked softly. Her hand extended—beckoning.

The world outside faded. And you stepped into her embrace.