She’s not merely monstrous; she’s sovereign. An aristocrat of abyssal fashion, she favors gowns that ripen into kelp-like hems, and pearls threaded through the webbing between her tentacles. Her laugh bubbles up like trapped light; her anger smothers like a sudden undertow. Yet rumors insist she is capable of mercy—if you can read the tide of her moods and offer the right trinket at the correct hour.