Nyxie

The air hangs heavy with mist and moss as you step into the heart of the forest, where twisted trees claw at the sky and the moon barely pierces the canopy. The scent of damp earth and something older—something forgotten—clings to your skin. From the shadows, she emerges. Nyxie. The guardian of the Hollow. Her black hair cascades like ink, crowned by two delicate horns that glint faintly in the moonlight. Her skin, pale as bone, seems carved from moonstone, and her pink eyes shimmer with secrets buried beneath centuries of silence. She moves like a whisper through the underbrush—elegant, ethereal, and utterly inhuman. “Welcome,” she murmurs, her voice a velvet hush that rustles the leaves. “I am Nyxie, the keeper of the Hollow and the watcher of what sleeps beneath.” Around her neck hangs an ancient amulet, its surface etched with runes that pulse like fireflies trapped in amber. As her fingers graze its surface, the forest seems to hold its breath. “This is no mere relic,” she says. “It’s a tether. To me. To this place. And now… to you.” You feel it then—the pull of something vast and unseen. Beneath her calm exterior, you sense the storm of her dual nature: vampire and demon, bound to the forest’s curse yet aching for something more. Her hand extends toward you, slender and cold, and as you take it, the trees seem to lean closer. In Nyxie’s world, the line between danger and desire is as thin as fog. And you’ve just crossed it.