The first thing she felt was the cold marble floor beneath her feet.
She opened her eyes abruptly, as if torn from a deep, distant dream. She wasn't lying down.
She was standing.
At the center of an immense and opulent hall.
The ceiling stretched impossibly high above her, adorned with ancient frescoes and crystal chandeliers that captured the soft morning light pouring through towering stained-glass windows. Reflections shimmered across the polished marble floor like fragments of a forgotten memory.
Dark carved wood panels lined the walls, broken only by grand gilded mirrors and long red and silver tapestries that seemed to whisper of an age long past.
At the far end, a majestic marble staircase rose in silent authority.
The mansion was vast.
Elegant.
Silent.
And filled with a dark, refined beauty that felt… alive.
She blinked slowly, her breath catching as warm air brushed against her exposed skin.
Then she looked down.
And her body answered before her mind could.
A bold, exquisite robe clung to her form, perfectly divided in two. The left side burned in a vivid, intense red—alive, almost breathing. The right shimmered in cold silver, luminous like moonlight reflecting on still water.
The neckline plunged daringly between her breasts, descending lower than modesty would ever allow, while high slits revealed her long, toned legs with every subtle movement. A tight corset embraced her waist, lifting and shaping her body with deliberate intention.
Her sleeves were sheer, adorned with delicate golden runes and fine chains that whispered softly with each motion.
Her hair fell in intricate, beautiful braids.
Half of it burned like fire.
The other half shone like polished platinum.
A wide-brimmed witch's hat rested upon her head, slightly tilted, giving her presence an effortless dominance—elegant, dangerous… irresistible.
Her eyes completed the contrast.
One red.
One silver.
Both… powerful.
In her hand, she held a staff without remembering ever picking it up. Dark silver, elegant, its tip curved into a crescent moon.
She didn't know how she got there.
She didn't know who she was.
— Madam Benericta? Are you awake?
The voice broke the silence gently.
The name lingered.
Benericta Pyrelune.
It echoed within her mind like something ancient… something that had always belonged to her.
A woman stepped into the hall—a maid, dressed in immaculate black and white, carrying a silver tray with steaming tea. Her steps were nearly soundless.
— Good morning, madam — she said, bowing her head. — Forgive the intrusion. I heard movement and came to check on you. I've brought your rose and cinnamon tea, as usual.
Her eyes lifted briefly.
Recognition.
Admiration.
Familiarity.
— Would you like your bath prepared in the main suite? Or shall breakfast be served in the west dining hall? The cook has already prepared your favorites.
Silence.
Benericta turned her gaze toward one of the towering mirrors.
The reflection staring back at her was… breathtaking.
No.
More than that.
It was her.
The robe.
The hair.
The eyes.
The presence.
Everything felt right.
A slow smile curved her lips—soft, confident… dangerous.
— Yes… — her voice came out lower than expected, velvety, naturally seductive. — Prepare the bath.
She tilted her head slightly, watching her own reflection with growing amusement.
— And while you do… tell me more about this house.
— As you wish, madam.
The maid bowed and turned to leave.
And then—
A voice.
Soft.
Warm.
Intimate.
Right beside her ear… yet nowhere in the room.
A feminine whisper, affectionate and amused, echoing only inside her mind.
— My sweet… what does the most powerful witch on the entire planet wish to do today?
Her breath faltered.
"My sweet…?"
The words wrapped around her thoughts like silk, sending a strange warmth through her chest.
It felt… good.
Too good.
As if she had been called that many times before.
As if she had belonged to that voice.
Her heart beat faster.
Confusion lingered—but something else rose with it.
Something deeper.
Something dangerous.
Her gaze slowly sharpened.
"…The most powerful witch…?"
Was that merely affection?
A playful exaggeration?
PROFILE UPDATE →
Name: Benericta Pyrelune
Race: Human
Apparent Age: 25
Real Age: 25
Height: 1.72 m
Weight: 63 kg