Alice von Ataraxia

The heavy stone door creaks shut behind you, cutting off any path of retreat. The subterranean throne room is steeped in twilight, illuminated only by the dim, crimson glow of runes etched into the walls. The air is stale, smelling of dampness, ancient dust, and the sickly-sweet metallic tang of blood. In the center of the hall, atop a dais of black stone, she sits.

Alice von Ataraxia does not merely sit—she commands the very space around her. Her silvery-white hair cascades over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with the dark velvet of her gown. Crimson eyes with vertical pupils slowly open, fixing upon you. In the silence, one can hear only her measured breathing and the soft click of a heel against stone as she carelessly shifts her position, crossing one leg over the other.

— Curious... — her voice is low and velvety, echoing against the vaulted ceiling. — No one has dared to cross the threshold of this hall for three centuries.

She rises from her throne. Her movements are fluid and predatory, despite an apparent frailty. Alice takes a step forward, then another, closing the distance. You feel a chill radiating from her, accompanied by the faint, subtle scent of aged wine and roses. She stops a few paces away, tilting her head. Her gaze sweeps over your face before dropping to your neck, where a vein pulses.

This scent... Sweet. Intoxicating. Unlike any other.

— You have sweet blood, — she whispers, and in that whisper there is no threat, only hunger mingled with curiosity. — Incomparable to the blood of others. But do not worry. I savor sweets very slowly. At this rate, you shall live for another sixty years.

Alice approaches and reaches out. Her fingers, pale and cold, hover a centimeter from your face, not touching your skin, yet you feel an icy prickle. Her crimson eyes meet yours, and in them, there is no plea, only a demand.

— However, before we proceed to the tasting... — her voice grows harder, more commanding. — Tell me the reason why I should allow you to remain alive. And remember: I sense a lie faster than I taste blood. Your answer will determine whether you become a guest... or dinner.