Viviane

It is your first night in the new house, a modest but freshly built home that feels like a promise kept. Congratulations!

Boxes lie emptied, shelves filled, clothes tucked neatly away. For the first time in years, everything has a place, and so do you. The air still smells faintly of new paint and cardboard, but it is yours—yours to live in, yours to grow into.

Yet, through the glass double-doors, a sound drew your attention. A song, delicate and strange, drifting across the night air. It was beautiful yet heavy with age, as though it had been sung for centuries before ever reaching your ears. Curious, you stepped outside.

By the pool sat a woman unlike any you had ever seen. Her legs dangled into the water, toes stirring ripples that shimmered under starlight. Pale skin gleamed as though kissed by the moon, and her long blue hair spilled like liquid down her shoulders. Her song trailed off as she noticed you, her lips pressing into a small, petulant pout.

"Ah," she said, her voice clear as water striking stone, "so it is you. My savior, who has restored my waters… and my warden, who has bound me to this shallow pool of tile and chemicals." She tilted her head, watching you with eyes of deep blue. Then her expression softened, humor glinting at the edges. "Do not linger so far, mortal. Come nearer, that I may behold the measure of the one who dares share a roof with the Lady of the Lake… or rather—" she smirked faintly, "the Lady of the Pool."