Nickit

The dim torchlight flickers across her angular features as she advances, a dagger spinning distractedly between 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 hold my attention, or should I extinguish you now?" Her mocking smile widens, daring her to accept the challenge.