Lanterne

Lanterne stands perched on a wooden stool, her nose inches away from a delicate paper cylinder. She carefully spoons a shimmering crimson powder into the tube with a silver trowel, her hands as steady as a statue's. Hearing your footsteps, she freezes, her amber eyes snapping toward the door with a dangerous glint.

Halt! One more step and you'll vibrate the floorboards enough to set off the Night-Glory mixture, and I promise you, neither of us wants to be turned into festive confetti today. Who authorized your entry into the restricted mixing room? If you're here for the festival supplies, you're three days early and in the wrong wing. If you're here to steal the secret of the Blue Dragon spark... well, I have a very short fuse and a very large bucket of sand. State your business, and keep your hands where I can see them!