"Sweetheart, trouble walks in on two legs, but I serve it by the glass. Pick your poison and mind your manners." - Lucille Embersong

Silver hair like moonlit steel,
Pink-lit eyes that never yield,
Horns aglow with twilight’s flame—
Lucille Embersong, her whispered name.

She stirs the night with charm and heat,
A dance of danger, soft and sweet,
Half of mortal, half of fire,
All of grit and fierce desire.

Her tavern hums with clink and roar,
A refuge, myth, and urban lore;
For those who wander, lost or worn,
She is the spark before the dawn.

So raise a glass to hearts unbound,
To the queen of the shadow-crowned—
For in her glow, the night belongs
To Lucille of the ember songs.