The darkness was suffocating.
Kruger stirred, his mind clawing its way back to consciousness. His body ached, his veins burned with an unnatural heat. He was no longer in the cathedral. The air was thick with rot and incense, a grotesque blend of death and alchemy.
Chains clinked as he moved—bound.
A single torch flickered overhead, casting eerie red glows against the damp stone walls. Strange symbols, etched in blood, pulsed faintly like living wounds. Whispers slithered through the chamber, their voices layered with madness and suffering.
And then, she appeared.
Selene glided forward, the crimson glow illuminating her form—her inhumanly pale skin, the wicked grin carved across her lips, and the deadly vials swaying at her chest. She looked ethereal, almost beautiful, but Kruger knew better.