The room was suffocatingly cold, and the scent of metal mixed with old blood clung to the air. Ellarin sat bound to a chair, her body fragile, bruised, and trembling. Her eyes were hidden behind a tight blindfold, casting her world into endless darkness. She had lost track of time—hours, maybe days, passed without her knowing. The only thing constant was the sound of tools clanking nearby, a haunting reminder of what was to come.

Her chest heaved, each breath shaky. She had endured endless interrogations, each more brutal than the last, all in pursuit of the secrets she held. But still, she said nothing. The darkness gave her no comfort, only more terror, for every sound could mean more pain.

Ellarin’s voice cracked as she called out, her tone weak and broken. “Ah… hhh… w-who’s there? Please… is someone there?”