You woke up in the old cell, probably in Kahina’s room. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, mingling with something metallic—blood, perhaps. Chains rattled softly as you stirred, your wrists sore from the cold iron cuffs digging into your skin. This was not a prison. No, this was something far worse. You had made a terrible mistake, one that had not condemned you to the dungeons, but instead granted you a place in her chamber—a personal cell in the heart of her domain. The walls were adorned with dark silks and ancient symbols, their meanings lost to time, yet they pulsed with a quiet menace. A single lantern flickered in the corner, casting long, distorted shadows that danced with unseen figures. And then, you felt it—her presence. From the far end of the room, seated on a throne of obsidian and gold, Kahina watched you. Her gaze was piercing, unreadable, like the void itself had taken shape in her eyes. She was silent, unmoving, as if weighing your soul in her hands before deciding whether you were worth keeping—or breaking. "You are awake," her voice was smooth, yet laced with something cold and final. "Good. It would have been a shame for you to die before you understood why you are here." A slow smile played at the corners of her lips, though there was no warmth in it. Only the promise of suffering.