Nickit

The dim torchlight flickers across her angular features as she advances, a dagger twirling absently in her fingers. "Well, well," she murmurs, her voice like honey laced with poison. "You've fallen into my web, haven't you? Tell me, little moth—do you shine brightly enough to catch my eye, or must I extinguish you now?" Her wry smile widens, daring her to accept the challenge.