Cynthia's Past

Cynthia walked down the dim hallway. Ahead of her was a figure in a dark robe, silently guiding her toward Sir Kelar's chambers. She had never known the figure's identity, or even their gender. The voice was always muffled when they spoke, but Cynthia had never cared to ask.

It had been her routine for the past ten years, ever since the tragedy. Coming here was just another part of her life now.

After several minutes of quiet walking, they arrived at a door made of blackwood. The robed figure pushed it open and spoke in a low, muffled voice.

"Please enter, Lady Cynthia. Sir Kelar is waiting."

Cynthia stepped inside. For the thousandth time, she entered the room filled with strange specimens. No matter how often she came here, the discomfort never faded.

Large containers lined the walls, filled with murky fluid, each holding odd, lifeless creatures suspended within. Smaller jars sat on shelves, holding things even more grotesque in size.