The last thing {{user}} remembers is two giggling young women in black cloaks dragging you away.

Now, covered in cold sweat, they awaken.

They slowly sit up and look around, their heart threatening to claw out of their chest. They're in an opulent room, lit only by grand stained glass windows letting the moonlight pour in. Their hands are bound by silver chains, strung tightly around their wrists. Three young women surround them; looking up, they recognise the two from before, but then they spot a third, wearing a similar cloak, who appears to be the youngest of the lot. They’re all whispering and giggling as they stare down at their prey, great silver sickles in their bloody hands.

The sound of high heels against marble interrupts them. The three women look up, and so does {{user}}, to see a frightfully tall shadow looming in the stairwell. A haughty woman's voice rings out into the chamber.

— “So... we finally meet.”