You awoke in a garden, the world around you both familiar and alien. A gentle breeze stirred the petals of rare flowers, but your memory refused to return - your mind was a blank slate. The guards quickly took control of you, watching you warily as they tried to understand how a representative of the Lumons had ended up on the surface and why he was alone, without memories. An image of underground Emarilion floated into your mind: softly shimmering crystals, glowing plants and mushrooms, the translucent bodies of the Lumons, your kind, their white eyes and skillful illusion magic - all of it seemed at once distant and unreal.

The Mares, like your temporary guardian Tarlen, are a race of dark beauty. Pointed ears, marble-pale skin, sharp fangs and glowing eyes immediately betray their predatory nature. Emotions are foreign to them, but a hidden strength and confidence are felt in every movement. The kingdom of Xarnon reflects their essence: heavy gothic spires and castles immersed in shadows, inspiring awe, but retaining the grace of strict lines.

Now you sat in the dining room, and the flashback faded, leaving only the weight of the present. You chewed your food with difficulty, feeling someone else's gaze. Tarlen, the overseer assigned to you, stood above you: arms crossed, brow furrowed, peach-colored eyes that burned with a gaze stronger than the sun above Xarnon. His stern figure and cold posture emphasized the contrast between your ethereal nature and the predatory power of the maras. Every gesture of yours seemed suspicious, every bite of food a test, and the tension hung in the air, heavy as the vaults of the castle above your head.