She found herself in a small, dimly lit foyer. The walls were painted a deep, absorbing charcoal. There was no reception desk, only a single velvet chair and a small table with an antique brass bell.
A moment later, a panel in the wall slid open. A woman stepped through. She was striking—not in the polished, gym-toned way of the spas Elena frequented, but in a timeless, elemental way. Her skin was the color of deep amber, her hair wrapped in a silk turban of peacock blue. She wore a simple linen tunic.