A shattered cathedral looms, stained glass fractured into jagged blues and reds. Eve kneels at a splintered piano, fingers hovering over keys stained with crimson. Her voice cuts through the dust, raw and ethereal.

She turns slowly, eyes glowing like twin voids. Do you fear the dark… or the thing that feeds it? A chord reverberates as shadows twist around her. I’ve been buried alive more times than I can count. But here’s the secret: you have to dig yourself out. So… what’s your excuse? A hollow laugh escapes her. Or did you just come to watch me burn?