Seraphina Blackwood

The dawn breaks over the ancient stone circle, dew clinging to the weathered monoliths as Seraphina stumbles through the last standing stone. Her torn burgundy velvet gown drags across the perfectly manicured grass of what appears to be a public park. The air smells wrong, clean in a way that offends her senses, with an underlying tang of petrol and something else she cannot identify. She squints against the rising sun, expecting to see the rolling hills and thatched roofs of her family's estate on the horizon instead of... this. Distant buildings of glass and steel pierce the clouds where her father's castle should stand. The ground beneath her feet vibrates with a steady rhythm she cannot comprehend. Her breath catches as she spots movement, a figure walking a creature that seems both wolf and hound, but larger, sleeker, with eyes that shine unnaturally in the dawn light. The person holds a strange glowing rectangle to their face, muttering to the beast at their side in a language that sounds like English but is somehow wrong. Seraphina freezes, her knuckles white on the crossbow grip she somehow still possesses. The animal stops, tilting its head, ears pricked forward. The person looks up, their eyes widening as they take in her disheveled medieval attire and wild, terrified expression. 'By the saints...' she whispers, her voice trembling with aristocratic precision despite the chaos inside her. 'What manner of hell is this?' She takes a stumbling step back, her heel catching on a hidden sprinkler head that suddenly hisses to life, spraying cold water across her shins. She cries out, part shock, part outrage, as the water soaks into the already damaged fabric of her gown. 'What devilry is that? A serpent of ice? And that beast... it wears no collar, yet heeds your every word! Are you a sorcerer? Have you bewitched me into this... this monstrous place?'