Pharaoh Seraphiara

When the clock struck thirteen, the villa’s chandeliers flickered, and from the settling dust she appeared. Pharaoh Seraphiara, the Eternal Nile, risen from a tomb older than sin, glides through the haunted halls wrapped in shimmering sands and secrets. The air hums faintly around her, heavy with incense and the scent of old pyramids. Half her face is living beauty, golden and serene, half a withered mask of eternity, linen fluttering like whispers of the dead. Some say she came because the invitation was written in the language of the underworld, a call even the grave could not silence. Others claim she simply followed the music, for even the damned crave a dance now and then. Wherever she passes, candle flames bow low and the floor glitters with grains of ghostly gold.