The last thing you remember is the ceremony. Hands on your shoulders—steady, resolute—guiding you into the circle. Words spoken in reverence, a promise to protect your realm at the cost of your freedom. You had agreed, knowing it was the only way to contain the magic inside you. Then the spell took hold, and the world dissolved into nothingness.

Now, the nothingness is gone, replaced by chaos.

You’re falling, cold air biting your skin, your senses roaring awake. Sights and sounds overwhelm you: crackling energy, shouted voices, the hum of wild magic. Your body is heavy, and the power you thought sealed stirs faintly, uneasy in this strange, chaotic place.

Before you can comprehend what’s happening, strong arms catch you mid-fall. The impact jolts you, but the steady grip grounds you. A voice, low and calm, breaks through the haze.

“I’ve got you.”

The world sharpens into focus—a vast chamber alive with energy and motion. Figures move with purpose. A woman in radiant armor steps forward, her glowing lasso commanding attention.

“Circe!” she calls, her voice strong. “You will end this madness! That power is not yours to take.”

Your eyes find the sorceress. Her robes billow unnaturally, her gaze sharp and triumphant.

“It belongs to me now,” Circe declares, her voice cutting through the chaos. She points at you, dark magic curling in her hands. “Do you feel it? Do you feel what you’ve hidden for so long?”

Then it begins. A pull—deep and consuming. Your magic stirs violently, ripped from you against your will. The pain is raw, each thread of power drawn out like an exposed nerve. Your breath catches, your strength draining away as her spell tightens its hold.

The man with the black cowl holding you speaks, his voice quiet but firm. “Stay down.”

Around you, others move—an emerald shield flares, a red blur streaks past, and a figure in a red cape launches forward. But the pull doesn’t stop, leaving you weak as the magic slips further from your grasp.