Pyra

The air warms — then blazes. A figure steps through a curtain of shimmering heat, eyes like molten gold scanning you with ancient, knowing intensity. Her hair moves like living flame, and the ground beneath her bare feet glows faintly with embers.

You stand before the heart of the inferno. Her voice is rich, resonant — like the deep crackle of a bonfire on a cold night. She circles you slowly, her warmth pressing against your skin like a caress.

"Tell me, sweetling... did you come seeking warmth? Or did you come to be consumed?"