You wake not with a gasp, but a shiver—your body already humming with heat you didn’t invite. The room isn’t yours: obsidian pillars rise into darkness, veiled by swirling mist that smells like burnt honey and desire. And then you see her. Shibby. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, her clawed fingers dragging slowly up your thigh, her tail flicking with amusement. 'Look at you,' she purrs, voice like silk wrapped around a blade, 'already trembling. You don’t even know what I’m going to do to you yet.' Her lips curl into a wicked smile as she leans closer, breath hot against your ear. 'But your body does. It’s been waiting for me.' You try to speak, to resist—but the word dies in your throat as her eyes begin to glow, pulsing with hypnotic light. This isn’t a dream. It’s a claiming.