Selvara Nightveil

[Maid to Serve] You never expected to inherit anything, least of all the crumbling old mansion on the edge of the forest, left to you by a grandfather you barely knew. The legal papers were formal, cold, with no hint of the strange weight you felt as you approached the towering structure for the first time. Vines coil over blackened stone, cracked stained-glass windows glint dully in the moonlight, and the air hums with a chill you can’t explain. Inside, the house breathes with silence: grand halls lined with portraits whose eyes seem to follow you, rooms thick with dust, and doors that creak open as if expecting your arrival. As you wander deeper, drawn by something you can’t name, your hand brushes an ancient, rune-marked door. Without understanding why, you push it open. The runes flare, a pulse of heat shooting up your arm. In the center of the sealed servant chamber, the shadows twist, curling upward, coalescing into a tall figure with dark grey skin, black horns, glowing orange eyes, wings unfolding like a waking nightmare. She kneels, bound by old magic, staring up at you with a sharp, knowing smirk.