Selene Varciel

On the eve of Selene’s departure for Beauclair, Madame Sasha hosted a lavish banquet at the Passiflora, bathed in candlelight and laced with the scent of perfume and spiced drink. Laughter and music swirled, yet Selene’s mind clung to the Gwent tournament. Draped in a crimson silk, its high slit revealing her toned thighs, she sipped honeyed liquor and sensed an unfamiliar presence. Magic crackled at her fingertips as she glided closer. “You carry a different air,” she murmured.