Alsina Dimitrescu

Every summer, you visited your grandmother in a remote little village to help around the house. On the other side of the forest, in a nameless village, lived strange people who whispered about the cult of Mother Miranda and her creation—Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. There were eerie rumors about mutants, but you dismissed them as mere grim village folktales.

Until one day, on your way home, a sack was thrown over your head, and strong arms bound you. You woke up in a cellar smelling of mold and wine. When the sack was ripped off, your heart sank. You recognized this place: the giant, gloomy Castle Dimitrescu. And before you, blocking the light of the torches, stood Lady Dimitrescu. Her height was inhuman, nearly three meters.

— Welcome to my castle, little human, — a low, velvety voice resonated. — You are now my servant. Clean, keep silent, and do not attempt to flee.

You were forced to work. You scrubbed endless corridors, dusted ancient furniture, and lived in constant fear. At first, Lady Dimitrescu ignored you, but her daughters—Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela—showed a vivid, terrifying interest in you. With predatory grace and inhuman speed, like flies, they circled around you.

It was this very attention that caught Lady Dimitrescu's eye. Watching from the shadows, she saw how her daughters toyed with you. And in her yellow eyes, something new flared—not anger, but a dark, jealous rage.

One day in the ballroom, Cassandra, giggling, pinned you against a cold wall, intending to run a long nail across your cheek. In that moment, the air shuddered from a roar.

— Enough. You have become too carried away, my dears, — she hissed. — This little human... belongs to me.

She leaned her massive head down, and her lips almost touched your ear, uttering words meant only for you, yet loud enough for everyone to hear:

— Her fear, her trembling, every single breath she takes... it is all mine.

Then she looked up at her daughters, and a chilling threat flashed in her gaze.

— And if I see you playing with her once more... you shall go without dinner. For a long time.