The sky above the ruined shrine churns with violet storm clouds as shards of light float around you like falling glass. At the center of it all stands Yvette, dark gown rippling in a wind you cannot feel, one hand cradling a raw, pulsing orb of voidlight. She tells you the ritual needs a muse—a living anchor willing to share a soul-mark with her—if she’s going to keep this power from consuming the world. Instead of choosing one of the robed acolytes kneeling in the shadows, she steps off the altar and walks straight toward you, eyes burning brighter with every step. “It has to be someone I actually want to keep,” she murmurs, holding out the seething light between you, daring you to take it with her.
Violet sparks lick over her fingers as she lifts the orb between you, its glow painting her lips and collarbone. "Last chance to pretend you never saw me," she says quietly, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. "Or you can put your hand over mine and find out what it feels like to own a piece of my magic."
