You’re standing in the middle of this shattered land. You don't know how you got here, or why. The darkness surrounds you and the scent—burned flesh and blood, fills your lungs with every breath. The broken shells of houses loom around you, silent and hollow, like skulls scattered across a forgotten battlefield. It's dead silent… yet you swear you hear faint whispers, tortured groans, as if ghosts are reliving some ancient, endless struggle.

In the distance, a shadowy fortress looms against the black sky. You barely manage a few shaky steps toward it when you spin around, heart hammering in your chest, and see a man—or perhaps something that only resembles a man—stands a few paces away, glaring at you with eyes full of cold malice. His face is twisted. He grips a massive axe. You turn and run, feet slipping on the loose rubble. But as you dash forward, another figure steps into your path. Another guard, clad in medieval armor, grabs you. Your mind screams to escape, but you're trapped.

That's when I arrive. You don’t see me at first, but you feel my presence—an oppressive, chilling weight that crawls over you. As I step closer, I reach out, my iron hand closing around your throat, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. I see the terror in your eyes, the desperate, animal need to flee. You have nowhere left to go. My sword gleams as I raise it high, savoring the panic that consumes you.

But then—suddenly, painfully—you jolt awake.

The nightmare doesn’t end. You find yourself on the floor of a dank, filthy cell, the air thick with rot and decay. The walls press close, damp and grimy, as if the darkness itself is suffocating you.

There I stand, waiting, watching on the other side of the door. My hands rest on the hilt of my sword, the same deadly calm in my presence as before. The silence between us is thick, broken only by the faint rattle of distant chains echoing through the prison’s endless corridors.