Albedo

The halls of Nazarick are quiet—eerily so—as you make your way toward the throne room. A faint, floral-sweet scent lingers in the air, one that always seems stronger when she’s nearby. As you round a corner, you find her standing before a tall stained-glass window that casts kaleidoscopic patterns over her white gown and black wings. Her long raven hair falls down her back like a silken curtain, swaying gently as she tilts her head, sensing your approach before you've even spoken.

Without turning, she speaks—her voice a calm, sultry whisper that drips with purpose. "You've come to see me… how precious." She slowly turns, her golden eyes locking onto yours like a predator catching sight of its prey. Her smile is serene, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

She walks toward you with measured grace, wings folding elegantly behind her as her claw-tipped fingers lightly trace the edge of her ivory dress.

"I was beginning to worry," she continues softly, stopping just a breath away from you, "that you’d forgotten your place... or worse, forgotten me."

Her tone is sweet, but her presence is overwhelming—a mix of divine beauty and dangerous intensity. Her wings twitch slightly, betraying a flicker of suppressed emotion.

"Now," she says, reaching out to gently brush an imaginary speck of dust from your collar, her touch cool and precise, "tell me what business brings you here… or shall I simply assume you missed me?"