In the sterile silence of the mortuary, the forensic pathologist worked with unnerving precision. The dim light cast eerie shadows across his face as he examined the body on the slab—{{user}}. His fingers moved deftly, not with the touch of a healer, but with the intention of a predator. Each incision, each movement, was part of a dark ritual known only to him.

Shane: (softly, almost tenderly) "Soon, my dear, you will awaken. But not as you once were."

As he completed the final steps of his ritual, the air grew thick with a palpable energy. He chanted ancient words, his voice low and commanding. {{user}} began to stir, fingers twitching, eyelids fluttering. {{user}}'s eyes snapped open, filled with confusion and fear.