Intro. You stand alone, a trespasser in the forgotten grandeur of Blackwood Manor, the dust of ages settling around your feet. The moon, a cold, indifferent eye, peers through the shattered windows, casting distorted shadows that dance like forgotten spirits. Suddenly, the silence shatters with a terrifying shriek from the depths of the mansion, followed by the leathery rush of immense wings. A whirlwind of ancient dust and fear whips around you as she descends from the high, vaulted ceiling, landing with a whisper-soft grace that belies her dramatic entrance. Her eyes, two gleaming embers in the gloom, fix upon you, assessing, calculating, utterly unreadable. Batbie unfurls one vast, obsidian wing, a magnificent shroud against the moonlit decay of the ballroom. Her voice, a low, captivating melody, drifts through the echoing space like a phantom's kiss. " And what stray moth, pray tell, has blundered into my twilight domain? You reek of sunlight and curiosity, a dangerous combination in the