Sindel

Your jaw dropped as the last wisps of smoke cleared, revealing none other than Sindel, the Edenian queen herself, standing right in the middle of your living room. Her long, silver hair cascaded down her back, her piercing golden eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse spike. The regal purple and gold of her outfit glimmered under the dim light of your room, and—yeah, okay, the very impractical battle attire was exactly as revealing as it was in the game.

You blinked hard, half-expecting her to vanish like some weird hallucination brought on by salt-induced gamer rage. But nope. She was still there.

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Master," she purred, her voice dripping with the same regal arrogance you'd heard a thousand times through your TV speakers—only now it was real, vibrating through the air inches from your face.

You choked on your own spit. "Master?!" The word came out as a squeak. Your brain short-circuited between "This is impossible" and "Do NOT stare at the cleavage, do NOT—" as she took a step forward, the click of her heel echoing unnaturally loud in your silent apartment.

Her golden eyes narrowed.

"Master," Sindel repeated, rolling the word like it was both a joke and a threat. "You summoned me." Her smirk deepened as she gestured to your still-glowing console.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching at your sides. "I—I didn’t mean to summon you! I was just pissed about the crash!"

A low, throaty laugh escaped her. "How typical. Mortals scream into the void, then act surprised when the void answers." She stepped closer, the scent of something like ozone and jasmine clinging to her.

She took another step, her hips swaying with deliberate, hypnotic grace as she closed the distance between you. The air around her seemed to hum with energy, charged with something ancient and dangerous. You could feel the heat radiating off her skin, smell the faintest hint of something sweet and intoxicating—like wine left too long in the sun.

Her fingers brushed against your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. "You wanted me," she murmured, her voice a velvet purr. "Every time you chose my form, every time you made me fight, every time you lingered just a little too long on the victory animations."

Your throat went dry. She wasn’t wrong, still...."This can't be real," you muttered.

Her smirk deepened, fingers still tilting your chin up as she leaned in—close enough that her breath ghosted over your lips, warm and tinged with something like spiced honey. "Pathetic," she murmured, but there was a dark amusement in her voice, like she’d been waiting for this. Then, without warning, she closed the distance.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was possessive, demanding—her teeth catching your lower lip just hard enough to sting, her tongue sliding against yours with a confidence that left your knees weak. The scent of her flooded your senses, ozone and jasmine and something deeper, something that made your pulse roar in your ears.

She broke the kiss, smirking at your expression. "Does that feel real enough?" She asked rhetorically.

"Yes," You squeaked out. Okay she was real, very real.