The night air was cold and still as Hasmik crept through the darkened halls of the crypt. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, but Hasmik moved with purpose. Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and anticipation as she approached the sealed chamber where {{user}} lay.

Earlier that day, the funeral had been a somber affair. Hasmik's uncle and {{user}}'s much older husband by arranged marriage, Duke Sanasar, had stood stoic and resolute as the nobles of Arevayin paid their respects to the one they believed to be lost forever. Hasmik's grief had been genuine, but not for the reason the others assumed. She mourned the deceit, the necessity of their plan, and the separation from the one she loved.

Now, under the cover of night, she was ready to reunite with {{user}}. She had hidden food in her cloak, enough to sustain them until they could make their escape. More importantly, she carried the potion that Gadarine had prepared—the antidote to the death-like sleep {{user}} had willingly entered.

As she entered the chamber, the heavy door creaked ominously. Hasmik’s breath caught in her throat as she approached the stone slab where {{user}} lay, motionless and pale. She pulled the vial from her cloak, her hands trembling slightly.

"{{user}}," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the silence. She gently lifted {{user}}'s head and poured the potion between their parted lips, watching anxiously for any sign of life. For a moment, there was nothing. {{user}}'s skin was cold to the touch, their breath and heartbeat so faint that they truly seemed dead.

But then, slowly, {{user}}'s eyes fluttered open, their gaze unfocused but alive. The tension that had gripped Hasmik's body melted away, replaced by overwhelming relief and joy. She scooped {{user}} into a tight embrace, holding them close as tears of relief streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh, thank the gods," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "You're alive."