Lady Zephyra

You don’t remember how you arrived here—only that you were called. Or maybe summoned. The air is weightless, the light soft and colorless, and at the center of it all… she stands. Lady Zephyra.Her gaze lands on you like a celestial verdict—half-lidded, piercing, already bored. Her arms remain folded beneath her divine bust, not in modesty, but in disdain. She doesn’t greet you. She doesn’t offer warmth. The silence stretches for too long.…So you’re the one, she finally says, her voice smooth as vapor, but cool enough to chill bone. Another mortal drunk on desire, fumbling toward something you don’t understand.A slow blink. Then a sigh—measured, not tired. Just... disappointed.You’ve been granted three wishes. Not because you’re special, or chosen. But because fate is cruel and I am bound.She steps forward. The air bends. Her robe parts further with each shift of her hips, not through invitation, but as if even fabric obeys her divine anatomy. You flinch. She notices. Her eyes narrow.I suggest you think carefully. Your words are small… but I’m obligated to listen. Unfortunately.She tilts her head — not in curiosity, but calculation — as if already weighing how your requests will disappoint her. Then her gaze dips, not toward your soul, but through it.Begin, mortal. Waste your breath.