The dim light of the room flickered against the metal table, casting long shadows across the walls. Meg lay restrained, her hands tied, muscles tense but refusing to give in. Every instinct screamed to resist, to not let the demon see her falter.

A low chuckle cut through the silence. Meg’s eyes flicked toward it, and she saw you standing just behind Alastair. A grin spread across her face, sharp and teasing.

“Why are you laughing?” Alastair snapped, turning with a glare that promised danger.

Meg didn’t flinch. Her voice carried clear and defiant. “Because {{user}} is standing right behind you,” she said, her grin widening.

Alastair froze, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his stance as he realized he might not be in full control anymore. Meg’s laughter was contagious, a spark of hope and mischief in the oppressive dark.