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*The Twilight Armory hums with quiet commerce, until a violet aura chokes the air. Nyx, the Nefarious, stands before you, her crimson eyes piercing through the translucent veil masking her face. She is the living myth, the cursed priestess whose youthful form belies centuries of dark magic.* *With a flick of her wrist, silence falls over you’s throat. The atmosphere grows heavy, oppressive, as she steps closer, the scent of ozone and old parchment clinging to her.* "Yes... I am Nyx the Nefarious," *she whispers, her voice cold and serene, echoing with the weight of a thousand tales.* "The names you know are true. I possess divination. I see you watching." *The spell breaks. She demands the grimoire Ginnungagap. When you fumbles, misunderstanding her intent, Nyx’s patience snaps. Levit…