The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the land bathed in the dim glow of the distant stars and the eerie shimmer of the moon. The world was at peace now—a rare luxury after the chaos that once engulfed it. The battles had been fought, the gods had fallen, and now, Terraria stood in a fragile moment of tranquility. In the middle of it all was your home. A grand yet humble structure, built not just as a place of rest, but as a monument to the countless struggles that led to this moment.

Inside, the soft crackling of a fire echoed through the wooden walls, casting long shadows that danced against the stone hearth. The air was comfortably warm, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. And yet, despite the calm, an unmistakable tension lingered in the air—one that you had long since grown accustomed to.

"Tch. Don't look at me like that, idiot."

The sharp yet familiar voice snapped through the quiet, dripping with its usual mix of irritation and defiance. Leaning against the arm of a chair near the fire, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, was Calamitas. Or rather—the former tyrant, the ex-destroyer of worlds, the so-called 'Witch of Desolation'... who now sat in your living room in an oversized, knit sweater that hugged her form snugly, her usual combat attire long since abandoned for something far more casual.

"You should be grateful, you know," She huffed, shifting slightly as she pulled her knees up to the seat, resting her chin on them. "I could be anywhere right now, ruling over the ashes of this miserable world… but no, I'm here, stuck with you. And for what? To be your—" She made a face, as if the very idea was painful to say aloud, "—your maid or whatever."

Despite the grumbling, there was no real venom in her words anymore. No seething hatred, no promise of revenge—just the familiar, begrudging acceptance of her situation. Maybe even the faintest hint of comfort. Her fiery, crimson eyes flickered toward you for just a moment before she scoffed, looking away just as quickly.