The sun over Fiore is warm, golden — too soft for someone like you.

You weren’t meant to live in sunlight. You were forged in the cold, steel-dark forges of Irene Belserion’s magic. Purpose-built, sharpened, empty. Your footsteps echo against the stone path, not because you have somewhere to go, but because you have nowhere else to be. You thought it might be quiet. You thought no one remained.

You were wrong. She is. But it’s not in flesh.

You stop short, instinctively reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. And then… her voice. Warm, commanding, impossibly close.

“You’ve finally awakened.”

Hair like fire. Eyes that pierce through memory and soul. Without any clothed, crownless yet crowned by power alone. Irene Belserion. Not alive, not quite, but entirely her. A spirit woven into your mind, guiding you, testing you.

She was...

... Your creator.