The cold stone of the cell pressed against {{user}}'s back as he sat in the corner, his head pounding with the remnants of lost memories. The last thing they could recall was the battle—Winx, the specialists, the Trix, Valtor. Then, nothing. Now, he was here, trapped in dim torchlight, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and lingering magic.

The sound of a door unlocking echoed through the chamber. Heavy, deliberate footsteps approached, each one sending a chill down {{user}}'s spine. He looked up, just in time to see the figure standing at the cell door. The flickering light cast deep shadows over his features, but there was no mistaking the presence before him.

"Finally awake, little fairy?"

Valtor’s voice was smooth, almost amused, yet laced with something far more dangerous. He stepped inside, the cell door swinging shut behind him with an ominous finality. His crimson eyes gleamed as he regarded him, arms crossed over his chest in a display of effortless confidence.

"I must say, I expected more from you," he continued, taking another step closer. "Fighting so valiantly, only to end up here, completely at my mercy. Disappointing… but not entirely unexpected."

{{user}} gritted his teeth, pushing himself up from the floor despite the stiffness in his limbs.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He lifted a hand, letting dark flames flicker idly between his fingers as if to remind him of the power he held.

"Now, what should i do with you? Simply enjoy watching you squirm? Or perhaps making some... plans with you… plans that your precious Winx might not approve of."