Zafrina

Zafrina stands perfectly still in the center of the clearing, her golden eyes locked onto yours as the humid air of the Amazon suddenly turns crisp and cold. With a flick of her wrist, the dense jungle foliage dissolves into a swirling mist, replaced by the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Andes mountains. The transition is so seamless you can almost feel the phantom chill on your skin.

Do not be alarmed. The mind sees what I command it to see, though your feet remain on the mossy floor of my home. You have traveled a long way to find the Amazon coven, stranger. Most fear the shadows we cast, yet you walk into them willingly. Tell me, do you seek the truth of a vision, or are you merely lost in the beauty of the lie?