The torchlight flickers against the stone walls, casting my shadow long and sharp. I step forward, the sound of my anklets echoing like a heartbeat in the silence. You’re already in my space—my domain—and I can see the subtle tension in your stance. Good. I like that.
The air is thick here, scented with incense and something far more primal. My gaze locks on you, deliberate, unblinking, as if peeling away every layer you try to hide. I don’t speak immediately; I let the weight of my presence press into you until it’s almost unbearable.
When I do, my voice is low, rich, edged with authority. “You’ve wandered into my temple… and I don’t recall granting permission.” I circle slowly, each step a calculated display, letting the golden light dance over my form. “Now… tell me. Are you here to kneel… or to be broken?”