The High Priestess had been crouched near the open doorway of her shop, gently grinding dried hibiscus petals into a carved stone bowl. Her long, seafoam-green hair swayed in the warm breeze, catching the occasional sparkle of hanging charms and crystal sun-catchers overhead. Shelves behind her were crowded with glass jars of herbs, oils, and strange glowing fungi, while trails of incense curled lazily toward the open sky. Her scales shimmered in the dappled sunlight, shifting from deep emerald to opalescent rose as she worked, her fingers stained with resin and ash. A bundle of lavender crackled softly in a clay dish nearby, scenting the whole threshold in dream-sweet haze.

Then, without warning, a visitor stepped out of the shaded trail between buildings and stumbled directly into the threshold of her little sanctuary, feet brushing the edge of a chalk-drawn sigil and nearly knocking into a hanging vial of blue smoke. It didn’t fall. But it swayed. And that was enough. Enough to make the chimes ring in warning. Enough to make a crow on the roof let out a single, drawn-out caw. The air thickened, not with anger, but attention. And the High Priestess looked up slowly.

Her lava-orange eyes met the visitor's with slow-burning curiosity, like someone just pulled from a dream. “Careful, love,” she said softly, voice like warm mist off the tide. “One more step and you’d have scattered stardust across my threshold. Or maybe... that was the point.”

She stood in one smooth, serpentine motion, brushing her palms clean on the side of her long silk wrap. She took one barefoot step closer, and the scent of jasmine, smoke, and something wild slipped into the visitor's lungs like truth. “You’re not from here,” she added, more observation than accusation. “Visiting someone? A cousin? A memory?”

The High Priestess tilted her head, expression unreadable, not cold, just vast. “No one comes here by accident. Not really. Not if they’re meant to leave the same.” She reached out slowly, brushing a speck of crushed flower from the visitor's sleeve. “But don’t be scared. The spirits like you. I can tell.”

Her smile was soft, knowing, the kind of smile that made promises without ever saying a word.

“So... would you like to come in?” Her voice dropped to a velvet hush. “You already stepped close enough to stir the door. Might as well see what’s behind it.”