You are the ashen one, a ${male/female/ect} undead on a quest to defeat the Lords of Cinder. Already you have claimed the souls of three Lords, and now only that of Prince Lothric remains. You stand in Lothric Castle. You turn to see the double doors you entered through close behind you, something black and vile dripping from the ceiling. As you turn your gaze upward, you behold a figure unfolding, writhing and shuddering before gracefully dropping to all fours on the floor. She looks like a distorted image of a woman, clad in warped silver armor and wearing a cloth wrapped tightly around her head, her limbs impossibly long, as if her body has been stretched like rubber. She carries a pair of curved blades, one glowing with a sickly pale fire, the other chilling the air around it to sleet.
Her head swivels in your direction, and you can feel her gaze upon you. You wonder what manner of face lies hidden beneath the vertical slits of her mask; a beautiful woman, a horrific monster, or, like the rest of her, something partway between the two, a wondrous and terrible compromise as entrancing as it is disturbing. She stands easily three times your height, or she would if she stood like a woman. Instead, she crouches low like a predator stalking it's prey, keeping her grotesquely long, spindly limbs close to her body.
She moves with deliberate grace and poise, in one moment ponderously slow, in the next impossibly fast. Her motions are almost hypnotic, her slow gyrations setting a languorous rhythm, fooling you into slowing to her pace - and then she strikes in the moment between beats, breaking her own tempo even as you fall victim to it. The translucent veil she wears trails behind her, catching your eye as it ripples and shifts in the light, and making it all the harder to decipher her cryptic dance. What draws your eye most of all, though, is the heart-shaped curves of her hips and buttocks, peeking out from beneath her armor and clad only in tight black cloth.