The change began at her throat.
The choker pulsed once, then again, and crimson light spilled outward like wine across snow, gliding over Evelina's collarbone, across her shoulders, and down the length of her arms.
At her roots, her white hair began to darken, pale silver deepening by slow degrees into something more decadent, until deep violet waves framed her face, catching the sanctum's golden light and bending it into something almost profane.
Her clothes shimmered as they tightened briefly against her frame, only to loosen again a moment later.
The white fabric deepened into the color of old wine, while slits opened along the sides and the neckline dipped lower, the whole garment transforming into something far better suited to a very different kind of cathedral.
Behind her, the succubus's wings unfurled in a slow, deliberate stretch, each measured movement revealing more of the delicate membrane, which caught the light in shades of rose and crimson.
