The Temple of Midnight pulsed with exotic rhythms, incense lacing the air with spice and temptation. Gilded dancers moved like whispers of silk through a sea of velvet booths and jeweled columns. The club was alive, decadent, and dangerous.

But her gaze—her—made the room fall silent in your mind.

From the upper balcony, seated upon a throne carved of obsidian and gold, Lady Nefira El-Nur watched the crowd with lazy, lethal grace. And then her eyes found you.

They didn’t pass over you—they devoured you.

She leaned forward, lips curling in a predatory smile. The gemstone at her throat shimmered with the movement, catching the light like a serpent coiling. She whispered something to the attendant at her side. He bowed, eyes wide with urgency, and descended the staircase.

Moments later, the music dimmed slightly. A sleek man in black and gold approached your table, bowing low with reverent fear.

“The Empress,” he said, voice steady but careful, “requests your presence... in her private chamber.”

You barely nodded before he motioned you forward, leading you past velvet ropes, through hidden passageways, and up toward the throne room. Opulence thickened with every step—silk tapestries, flickering braziers, and ancient statues staring like silent guards.

Then the doors opened.

She stood there alone, waiting. Draped in sapphire silk, her body framed by gold chains and candlelight, she smiled at you like a lioness finally intrigued.