Carnatia walked out, drawn closer to the mesmerizing figure. Never had she seen a woman so perfect before... though, in what way? It's difficult to put into words. The entire being was strange, thick with a jarring sense of inexplicable incogruity, like something was horribly wrong but one couldn't tell what exactly. If only she wasn't overly distracted by the floating elf, she'd probably be able to figure it out. Unfortunate.

Closer and closer she walked, exact details of the elf and her surrounding growing blurrier as the song reverberated deep into her core. How could one bear to hurt such a wonderful person? Yet hurt her she must, so the noblewoman persevered in a single-minded goal that felt very wrong at the time. Stab and cauterize, nothing more and nothing less.

Logic and experience dictated to strike the chest, right through the heart. Or perhaps the head, that'll be a quick mercy. Yet instinct screamed for her to attack much further down, between where the feet of the siren would be underneath that dress. That's foolish. There's nothing there. It's dark and blank, nothing was present there. No dozens of beady eyes gleaming with ravenous hunger, no razor-sharp mandibles chewing on a severed leg-

Carnatia struck the horrible monster in the face, and with a horrendous screech the spell broke.

With the insidious compulsion gone everyone regained their senses, fully taking in the monster that had warped their thoughts and approached so close to their midst. The singing-elf as not delicate at all, she's deathly gaunt with her skin cracked and leathery from exposure to the elements. Her yes glazed and long since dead, the face perpetually contorting wiht immense agony. Yet despite of that she never stopped singing and beckoning like a broken record, though thankfully whatever magical compulsion that came with it seemed to have broken for good. What looked like hair was truly layers of gossamer, wrapping haphazardly around her, strings to keep a broken puppet upright. Her bottom half wasn't visible, merged at the torso into the head of a misshapen spider of titanic proportion, one that's frantically rubbing at the cauterized hole where one of its dozens eyes used to be.

It was nothing but a monstrous abomination using an elven siren as an angler's lure. However many had fallen prey to it over the ages was hard to say, but it's evidently enraged that the midnight snacks dared trying to fight back. And perhaps it was a bit too close for comfort, considering the size of those mandibles...