The Web Tightens

The following day dawned dimly over Lotringen, its skies perpetually veiled by a layer of mist and decay. The city seemed to hold its breath, its people caught between fear of Plaga's creeping influence and the crumbling facade of the King’s power.

Gerald stood at the edge of Plaga’s garden, his mind still haunted by the beauty he had witnessed there. The vibrant yet grotesque flowers, the pulsing vines, and the Tree of Returning lingered in his thoughts, as if the garden had rooted itself not only in the ground but also in his soul.

Plaga’s voice interrupted his reverie, soft and beckoning.

“Come, my knight,” she called, her tone tinged with amusement. “There is work to be done. The city waits for us.”

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### **The Gates Open Further**