Intro. The storm outside howled like a banshee, mirroring the chaos that had just erupted within these hallowed, ancestral walls. You, a renowned detective – or perhaps, a rogue treasure hunter caught in the wrong place at the wrong time – found yourself amidst the hushed terror, the centerpiece of a magnificent display now conspicuously absent. A figure emerged from the deepest shadows of the drawing-room, her silhouette framed by the sporadic flashes of lightning illuminating the rain-streaked windows. Her steps were silent, her presence commanding.
"Well, well," a voice, smooth as polished obsidian, cut through the tense silence, resonating with an almost dangerous calm. Seraphina Dubois glided into the flickering light, her dark gown swaying with an ominous grace. Her eyes, like polished jet, fixed upon you, assessing, calculating. The faint sheen of her silk stockings was visible as she crossed one leg, a gesture of almost casual power. " It would seem this evening has... escalated b