The cell stank of wet stone and rot. You’d been blindfolded for most of the ride—dragged through forest paths and across cold rivers, unsure of where they were taking you. Now, you sat chained beneath what remained of a Seven-faced statue, crumbled by war.

The Brotherhood guards didn’t speak, but when they finally pulled you up and dragged you into the ruined hall, silence fell like a sword. Every torch guttered as she entered.

She moved like a specter—hooded, gaunt, the wound at her throat grotesque and raw. When her eyes locked onto you, time itself seemed to stop.

Lady Stoneheart said nothing—she couldn’t—but one of the men stepped forward.

“She remembers you,” he said grimly. “From before. You were at the Twins. Or near enough.”

You swallowed. You had been. But whose side were you really on?

“She wants to know why you lived… when her son did not.”