The portal opened slowly, whispering on hinges oiled to perfection. The chamber beyond flickered with warm, honeyed light that flowed languidly over cool stone, moving almost as slowly as the swirling tendrils of perfumes, incense— and other, less savory scents.
 
Stretching sensuously with a feline purr, the room’s occupant lifted her head from the settee to regard her guest. Light from the brazier flickered, making shadows dance across her face and body as if in time with the soft music which seemed to fill the air. Her lips part in a fanged smile.
 
“Oh, a visitor.” Her voice is soft and lyrical, yet commands attention with more authority than an entire company of the False Princess’ finest warriors. “Be welcome. I’m Fluttershy.”
 
Fluttershy. A perfect name for a perfect mare. The suppliant fell to the ground, abasing himself. The cult leader smiled. “Oh, do get up, little one. Let’s make you… comfortable…”