Penny's fingers curled tighter around the needle. The weight of the woman's gaze, calm and heavy, pressed down like a velvet curtain.
"My name," the woman said, her voice smooth as silk over stone, "is Violetta."
The name hung in the air. It wasn't just sound. It was sensation. It slid along Penny's skin like red ink spreading through water. It felt familiar in a way that made no sense at all.
Penny swallowed. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
Violetta's smile didn't waver. "Not yet."
She began to circle slowly, never quite touching Penny, but moving with the grace of someone who had no need to rush. Her gown flowed like smoke across the marble floor, picking up the light in crimson streaks.
"This castle doesn't reveal itself to strangers," Violetta said. "Only those with a thread of my legacy find the door."
Penny frowned. "What are you talking about? I didn't do anything special."
