The mystical and well-trimmed faery mound at dawn (not Infelice's, but the eftmound).
The eftmound - also known as the faery mound in more mundane terminology - is the mystical hill right in the midst of the realm of the Elohim. Within its centre lies the unspeakably fashionable designer-fitted cocktail lounge that is Elemesnedene.
No living being - apart from Vain, the ur-viles' ultimate creation - has ever been able to either enter or exit the eftmound without specific prior permission from one of the Elohim. If you're looking for an analogy, think of the most exclusive night-club there's ever been, with the most prestigious A-list celebrity clientele, policed by the most efficient and most aggressive doormen and you'll kinda get the idea.
Important Note[]
If you ever find yourself on the Isle of the Elohim, whatever you do, NEVER be in the least confusing in your usage of the term 'faery mound' while there. As a grim cautionary tale, it is known that the more naïve of hapless visitors in a cack-handed attempt to make polite conversation have approached Infelice, the Elohim queen and the haughtiest of them all, and have complimented her upon the well-trimmed and tidy appearance of her faery mound.
This they might have got away with if Infelice was having a good hair day (not that the fey über-hottie has anything else ever). However, upon being granted entrance into Elemesnedene, the unwary are then lamentably prone to exclaim in wonder "Wow! Your mound is so much bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside!"
Despite initial impressions, this is in fact a reasonable comment, since, much like Time Lords with their TARDISes, the Elohim consider mere trifles such as the limitations of the spatial dimension as unimportant - in fact, when it comes to effortlessly achieving the ultimate in suave chicness and sophisticated elegance of design, the Elohim don't let physics worry them at all. However, Infelice is nigh bound to radically misinterpret this sadly all too typical awe-inspired comment as less than innocent. At which point in a fit of outraged pique, she will cast a brain-liquefying spell of such power that it will permanently leave such unfortunately loose-lipped visitors with all the intellectual capacity of a retarded root vegetable, after such a perceived heinous slight. You have been warned.