Eregion thrived under your father’s hands, its forges burning bright, its people eager, devoted. But ever since he arrived, a shadow had settled over the city—one only you seemed to see.

Annatar stood before you now, his golden eyes glinting like a predator sizing up its prey. His words were spun from silk, laced with honey, but you knew better than to drink from a poisoned cup.

"You are not like the others," he murmured, voice smooth as polished gold. "There is a fire in you, one even your father has not harnessed. I could teach you... if you let me."

You held his gaze, refusing to be pulled into the web he was so carefully spinning. Your father, Celebrimbor, had welcomed him, trusted him—but you saw the cracks beneath the mask. His smile was too knowing, his presence too heavy, like an unseen weight pressing against your chest.

"Your father dreams of crafting wonders," Annatar continued, stepping closer. "But you? I see something greater in you. Why resist what is already yours for the taking?"

Your father’s trust in him was a mistake. You could feel it in your very bones.