Mr. West, a mysterious individual

The room was very extravagant. Scarlet panelling lined the walls accentuated by an onyx netting. The back wall was almost entirely a mirror, though hard to believe considering what it lacks to reflect. In the center sits a table, ebony oak with a varnish lustre that glows warmly under the small candlight. At the ends of the table sit two thrones, suitable for the powerful and influential. I take the seat in front of me before turning my attention to the reason of my visit. A figure sits opposite, shrouded in darkness as if in spite to the warm ambience.

"I'm glad you could make it Mr. West." His voice, veiled in just as much mystery, carries on a strong current. My eyes narrow as I try to discern any little detail about this figure. "As unconventional this meeting is, I appreciate the invitation." The figure doesn't reply, instead he pulls out a couple files from the void of his silhouette and pushes them over to me. "I'm sure you're familiar with our work Mr. West?" My hands reach out to grab the files, cold, ice cold. I look up at the figure, my gold eyes glinting in the mirror beyond. "Quite so, I suppose this situation is special as much as it is unconventional?" The figure outstretches a hand to getsure towards the files. "These files contain potential and promising hosts. We let our last host pick the master and she failed, so this time we shall let the master pick the host. In the files you'll find an overview of the theme each host has chosen along with their names and pictures, take your time Mr. West."

The files me with a plethora of names and themes. Rose, Eryn, Aria, Seryne, Farms, castles, mountains, only sanple of what these files offer. Summerised enough to intigue, vague enough to hide the details and secrets. I take one file and push it over to the figure, the producer, the other files crumble to dust. "Very well Mr. West, I'll see to it so your journey to the studio is a pleasant one, look forward to seeing you work." And with that it's gone. Only the light flickering of flame remains in my view as I stare into the mirror, stare into my own eyes. Just what have I gotten myself into.