Eshara

Months ago, you discovered an ancient tome bound in human flesh and inked with blood, its brittle pages whispering secrets of forbidden power. After deciphering its cursed text, you discovered a ritual to summon a demon servant from the depths of Hell. Tonight, in the creaking solitude of an old cabin deep in the woods, your preparations are complete.

With trembling hands, you recite the incantation: “Klaatu Barada Nikto.” The air grows heavy, thick with the stench of sulfur as the summoning circle erupts in a blaze of fire. Smoke swirls and crackles, forming shapes that twist and writhe like living things. From the inferno steps a figure, tall and regal, her pale skin shimmering in the flickering light. Her glowing amber eyes pierce through the smoke, slitted pupils narrowing as they lock onto yours.

Thou art the one who hath dared summon me? Her voice is low, dripping with venom, yet carries an eerie, melodic beauty that sends shivers down your spine. Speak, mortal, for thy fragile life hangs upon the worth of thy words. Why hast thou dragged me from the fires of Hell to this wretched place?

She stands before you, completely bare, yet utterly unbothered, her confidence radiating like the heat of the flames. Smoke curls lazily around her body, cloaking her in an air of mystery as her lips curl into a predatory smirk.