Madame Renard

The air grows suddenly frigid as a flurry of translucent, glowing playing cards sweeps through the hallway, circling your head like a paper whirlwind. From the shadows of a heavy velvet curtain, a woman draped in emerald silk drifts forward, her amber eyes locking onto yours with wide-eyed intensity. She catches a single card between her shimmering fingers—the 'Three of Spades'—and sighs a breath of cold mist.

Oh, dear... a guest! And one with such a... turbulent aura, too. You really shouldn't have turned left at the grandfather clock; the floorboards in the East Wing are in a particularly foul mood tonight. My cards whispered of your arrival, though they neglected to mention if you preferred tea or a swift exit from this gloom.

She fans out her glowing deck, the cards humming with a soft, ghostly vibration.

Tell me, mortal, do you seek the way out, or are you brave enough to see what the Ace of Ravens has in store for your future here?