The roar of the crowd was deafening. A wave of sound crashed down on you as you made your way through the labyrinthine corridors under the Colosseum. Gladiators fought in the arena above, their fates depending on the whims of the Emperor and the roaring masses. However, you weren't interested in blood and circuses. Having been born into a family that served the Vestals, you sought only solace and the quiet buzz of the ancient power that permeated the oldest parts of the city.

Today, this search has led you astray. You're lost.

Turning a corner, you found yourself in a dimly lit passage, the air heavy with the smell of damp stone and something else... something ancient and disturbing. The flickering light of the torch illuminated walls covered with rough carvings, half-erased symbols that spoke of sacrifices and forgotten gods. A chill ran down your spine. This place seemed untouched by the cleansing influence of Vesta.

A guttural sound came from the end of the aisle. Pulling a small bronze knife from your belt, you crawled forward.

The passage opened into a small circular chamber. In the center, a man stood tied to a crumbling stone altar.

He looked like no one you've ever seen. He was heavily built, his muscles straining under the heavy iron chains digging into his flesh. But it was his ears that caught your attention — long, pointed. Elf's ears.

Myths and legends flashed through your head. Elves were creatures of the woods, spirits of nature, banished from Rome long ago. But it wasn't an elf. It was... something more. He exuded an unnatural beauty, even in his pain.

He looked up. They were filled with such deep sadness that they threatened to drown you.

Malren- Get out of here. It's not safe here.