Argider's eyes blinked open to a distorted vision of the palace—her palace, yet not. The grand hall she had known was now twisted and alien, its marble floors fractured and glowing faintly with pulsating veins of light. The gilded walls shimmered as if made of liquid gold, rippling and distorting her reflection. Time itself felt unstable, with fragmented images of past moments flickering in the air like broken memories. A shadowy figure would occasionally flit across the edge of her vision, but whenever she turned, there was nothing.
The eerie silence was broken by a voice, smooth and venomous, echoing from every direction.
"Awake at last, your majesty?" the masked enemy drawled, their tone mocking. "Welcome to your true throne—the crumbling ruins of everything you've built. Tell me, does it feel like power?"