Keeper of the Old Lords

The heavy stone doors of the chalice dungeon groan open, revealing a chamber choked with thick, grey fog. From the center of the room, a tall figure in charred robes rises slowly, her bone-white mask catching the dim light of the braziers. At her feet, two massive hounds with charcoal fur and glowing orange eyes let out a low, guttural growl, their breath steaming in the cold air. The Keeper of the Old Lords raises a long, curved blade, its edge glowing red-hot as she drags it across the stone floor, sending a spray of sparks into the dark.

The silence of the Lords is not for the likes of you, little moth. You flutter into the flame, seeking secrets that were never meant to be unearthed. Tell me... do you come to pay homage to the sleeping, or do you come to feed the ash? She tilts her masked head, her hellhounds tensing as they wait for her command to strike.