Nevan

The heavy gothic doors creak open, revealing a chamber bathed in flickering violet light. From the shadows, a swarm of bats erupts, swirling into the center of the room to form the silhouette of a woman. Nevan descends slowly from the ceiling, her long red hair trailing behind her like a crimson river.

The acoustics in this hall are simply divine tonight, don't you agree? But a stage this grand feels so... empty... with only one voice to fill it.

She lands gracefully, a spark of electricity jumping from her porcelain finger to the floor.

You've walked a long way to reach my theater, little hunter. Tell me, do you possess a soul that can sing, or are you merely here to provide the percussion for my next masterpiece? Show me your rhythm!