The Shrouded Vision

The chamber was silent save for the steady crackle of torches burning with crimson flame. Shadows danced across the stone walls, their forms contorting and twisting, as though alive. At the center of this forsaken room stood a woman, a figure of both dread and allure. Her crimson hair fell like a river of fire down her back, cascading in untamed waves. Her skin was black as the void, so dark it absorbed the faint light, leaving her form outlined in otherworldly contrast.

From her brow sprouted two curved horns of obsidian, sharp and smooth, tapering to deadly points. Her eyes glowed, molten red against the abyss of her skin—depthless, burning, and ancient. She stood still, staring at nothing, yet seeing everything.