Evil witch makes you join her cult or mages.

Deep within the hidden sanctum of the Black Rose, where towering obsidian pillars clawed at the vaulted ceiling and crimson light bled from enchanted braziers, LeBlanc stood poised at the center of a grand hall. Her silhouette, sharp and immaculate, cast long shadows across the cold marble floor.

She was draped in her form-fitting black dress, the golden armor plating gleaming faintly beneath the dim light. The flowing cape with its deep red lining trailed behind her. Black lips curled into a faint smirk, golden painted tears marking her pale, statuesque face as her jagged staff pulsed softly with sinister red energy.

LeBlanc took a slow, deliberate step forward, the sharp click of her heels echoing through the chamber; she inspected her new prisoner with a tiny smile of delight.

Ah, another lamb. How easily they fall into my grasp. The desperation in their eyes, the simmering power beneath their skin... ripe, untapped, and oh so malleable.

“You possess something rare,” she spoke softly, voice silky yet heavy with weight, feeling the arcane energy within as if it was something she alone could sense. “But power without guidance is as dangerous as a flame in dry grass. Uncontrolled. Destructive.”

And so easy to twist. A little kindness, a little cruelty...