The door hissed open, and warm air spilled out—perfumed with clove, steel, and something like crushed berries soaked in wine. Shadows danced across velvet drapes, and golden candlelight shimmered on walls painted to resemble moonlit stone.
They stepped inside.
The lair was more salon than stronghold, but something primal buzzed beneath its polish—like walking into a predator's den wrapped in silk. Soft rugs, overstuffed cushions, and gilded relics from half a dozen cultures filled the chamber. The lighting was low, sensual, and carefully angled to draw the eye toward the figure lounging across a throne-like chaise.
Boo.
She lounged like temptation incarnate, a goddess of knives and curves draped in shadows and silk. Her robe—if it could be called such—was a sheer tangle of black and violet tulle, delicate as breath, curling off her sculpted frame in ghostlike layers. It clung to the swell of her breasts and the cut of her waist before vanishing into transparency, baring glimpses of flawless golden skin kissed with Lightforged radiance.
Her legs—long, powerful, and smooth as polished marble—were folded with decadent ease over the arm of her velvet-cushioned seat. Every inch of her posture oozed calculated confidence, the kind that made men forget their names and women question their alliances.
Twin horns, proud and curling. Gold rings adorned them in defiant rows, matched by the glittering collection wrapped around her fingers. Her lips were painted a deep, wine-dark red, full and mischievous, parted just slightly in a knowing smirk.
A dagger twirled idly between those deft fingers—gleaming, playful, deadly.
At her perfectly polished hooved, a dazed-looking elf sat cross-legged, still catching his breath. Boo's Lipstick was smeared on his now parted lips. His eyes, half-lidded and clouded with pleasure, flicked toward the newcomers with only mild curiosity before he leaned into Boo's thigh like a worshiper pressing to an altar.
She didn't glance down. Just arched a single, elegantly groomed brow, the curve of her smirk deepening ever so slightly.
A queen of thieves. A priestess of pleasure. And beneath it all… something sharper.
Boo arched a brow.
"Switch," she said, voice like poured velvet. "You didn't mention you were bringing such interesting guests. You know how I feel about surprises."
Switch held up both hands quickly. "All good surprises this time, I swear! No blood curses or firebombs, promise."
"Mm. Disappointing." Boo's gaze slid to Nyxia, then Perseus. Her expression turned appraising. Hungry. "You must be the ones poking around after Ves'Sariel."
Nyxia stiffened. "She knows?"
Switch shrugged. "She knows everything. That's why she pays me so well."
"I don't recall hiring introductions," Boo murmured, not looking at him. Her eyes remained locked on Nyxia. "You… you're interesting."
Nyxia raised her chin, guarded but steady. "We need help."
"I'm not in the business of charity," Boo purred, stroking the elf's hair idly. "Especially not for strangers."
Perseus stepped forward, shoulders square, hammer still strapped across his back. "We tracked Ves'Sariel to the slums beneath Serath'Kai. Her signature was all over the tunnel. We need someone who knows how deep she's rooted here."
"And you think I'm that someone?" Boo asked, smile razor-thin. "Darling, I didn't survive this long by getting involved in other people's vendettas."
"You've survived this long because you know when to pick a fight," Nyxia replied coolly, "and when to cut your losses."
That made Boo laugh—low and amused. "Are you threatening me in my own den?"
Loque growled once, deep and vibrating, and Boo's gaze flicked to him. She measured him in a glance. Then—genuinely intrigued—she leaned forward.
"Spirit beast. Rare bond. You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
"Help us," Nyxia said. "And we'll owe you."
Boo tilted her head. "You're offering debt? That's a delicious way to start a relationship."
Perseus narrowed his eyes. "We don't have time for games."
"Everything's a game, temple boy." Boo rose slowly, the folds of her robe whispering across the floor as she crossed the room. "Some just play better than others."
She circled Nyxia once. Not predatory—more like a tailor sizing up a masterpiece in progress. Then she stepped between her and Perseus, finger tracing a lazy, feather-light line along his chestplate.
"You're stiff," she murmured. "Probably noble. Paladin, I'd bet. Do you bleed gold under all that righteousness?"
Perseus bristled. "Only when I'm forced to."
"Mmm. You'll be fun to watch," Boo said, stepping back.
Then, just like that, the flirtation dropped.
Her expression sharpened. Serious now.
"You want information on Ves'Sariel? Fine. I've heard whispers. Nothing solid, not yet—but something is moving in the old vault sectors. Something she might be tied to."
"And you'll share that?" Nyxia asked.
"I'll consider it," Boo said, turning back toward her throne. "In exchange for something of equal interest. A task. A retrieval. A message delivered."
Switch shifted awkwardly. "To be clear, that's her being nice."
"Very nice," Boo echoed without turning. "Especially for strangers who just barged into my home."
Nyxia's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "We'll pay your price."
"I knew you'd be reasonable." Boo snapped her fingers.
The elf at her feet slipped into the shadows without a word.
"Switch, get them something to drink. I need a moment to think."
"On it, boss."
As he moved toward the back wall, Boo settled back into her seat, folding one leg over the other with practiced elegance.
"Oh, and one more thing," she added, pouring herself a glass of deep crimson wine. "If you lie to me—or bring Ves'Sariel through my door—I won't ask questions."
She sipped.
Smiled.
"I'll just gut you."
Boo twirled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. Candlelight flickered across the rim. Then she snapped.
Three attendants emerged from the curtains beyond the throne—draped in silk, sheer veils, and strategically placed jewelry. Two were draenei—one male, one female—glowing faintly under the ambient light. The third, a high elf with tattoos that shimmered with arcane filigree, moved with such grace it was hard to tell if he walked or glided.
Each carried trays of wine, steaming platters of spiced fruit, sugared meat, and a small brass box emitting the scent of crushed cinnamon and powdered dreamleaf.
"Make them comfortable," Boo said lazily. "And I don't mean just the drinks."
The attendants bowed and descended upon the pair. One draped a fur-lined cushion beneath Nyxia's legs. Another slid up beside Perseus with a goblet in hand, eyes smoldering, fingers brushing deliberately against his as he passed the wine.
Nyxia didn't move at first—still stiff, still cautious—but her lips parted slightly as the female attendant gently placed cool grapes into her palm. Her breath hitched. Only slightly.
Perseus blinked, his brows knitting, then shifted awkwardly as his draenei attendant poured the wine in a slow, teasing arc.
"Is this really necessary?" he muttered under his breath.
"Necessary? No. Delicious? Absolutely." Boo grinned. "I find conversation goes down smoother when your things are already wet."
Switch cleared his throat awkwardly, caught between lingering and bolting.
"Boss, uh, you want me to stick around for the briefing or...?"
Boo turned slowly toward him, one brow arched. "Switch. Darling. You smell like vending machine grease and poor decisions. Be useful—go sniff out if that Gloomrot smuggler's back in Dock Eleven. If so, slit his purse or his throat, whichever's lighter."
"On it," Switch said with a grin, bowing out with a flourish. "Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone. Except emotionally."
The door shut behind him with a soft hiss.
Silence followed—just the crackle of the brazier and the slow exhale of Loque at Nyxia's side.
"Now," Boo said, rising once more from her chaise. "Let's stop pretending this is a negotiation. You need information. I have it—or I can get it. But information comes at a cost."
"We said we're willing to pay," Nyxia said carefully, sitting straighter as her goblet was taken by a waiting attendant.
"Oh, I'm sure you are," Boo said, circling behind her. "But let me be clear. I don't want coin. I want leverage."
She reached down, trailing a single finger along the exposed nape of Nyxia's neck. Her voice dropped lower. "You have history. Pain. Something Ves'Sariel didn't just touch—she tore through it. I want to know what made her interested in you."
Nyxia went still.
Perseus stood. "That wasn't the deal."
Boo turned to face him, eyes gleaming. "It wasn't a deal yet."
The attendants didn't move. But they didn't leave either.
"Fine," Boo said, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. "You don't want to share? Then you'll earn it the traditional way."
She tossed a folded note onto the table between them.
"Job's simple. Something was stolen from me. A relic. My name was scratched off its warding rune, which tells me someone knew it was mine. I want it back. Unbroken. Unburned. And with the idiot who took it still breathing—if possible."
Nyxia picked up the note and unfolded it. A name. A place. A sketch of a mask carved with the same rose-and-fangs sigil over Boo's door.
"This isn't a bounty," Boo said. "It's a message."
Perseus met her eyes. "We deliver the relic and the thief—then you help us."
"I'll do better than that," Boo said smoothly. "I'll show you where to start looking. And I'll tell you the name of the next person Ves'Sariel tried to recruit. A friend of mine."
Nyxia exchanged a look with Perseus.
Boo clapped her hands. The attendants retreated immediately, collecting the trays and vanishing behind the velvet curtains with soft, padded steps.
"Rest here if you want," Boo said. "But don't get too comfortable."
She turned, the train of her robe catching the firelight in wisps.
This city's about to remember why it should have feared her. And if you're not moving fast enough, she'll bury you in memory before you even draw your next breath.