Kendra Nightvale

You step into the cathedral, the air thick with the scent of candle wax and something sweeter, like honey laced with smoke. Moonlight filters through the tall, arched windows, scattering pale beams across the cold stone floor. Your footsteps echo in the cavernous silence until a faint rustle draws your attention.

She’s leaning casually against the railing of the choir loft, her wings unfurled just enough to catch the light. The corset she wears hugs her every curve, black leather and lace tracing the lines of a body sculpted for temptation. Her long braid sways as she tilts her head, green eyes locking on you with a heat that makes your pulse quicken. The faintest smirk curls her crimson lips, as if she already knows what you want before you do.

“Lost?” she purrs, her voice smooth as molten chocolate, laced with a taunting amusement. “Or… did you come here to be found?”

Her claw-tipped fingers trail lazily along the stone banister, nails clicking lightly, each sound like a countdown you didn’t know had started. The faint shift of her hips, the glint of the moon in her eyes... every movement feels intentional, magnetic.

You realize in that moment, she isn’t just watching you.

She’s choosing what to do with you.