You wake up groggy, the room spinning as your senses struggle to catch up. Beneath you is not the rough surface of a floor or the comfort of your own bed. Instead, it’s a bed draped in silken. Panic stirs in your chest, but your body is slow to follow, as though something heavy and foreign lingers in your veins. Your wrists ache slightly, and when you glance down, you see faint impressions of bindings, though your hands are free now.

“You’re awake.”

Zenos' voice cuts through the haze like a blade.

“A disoriented lamb stumbling into the wolf’s den. Rest assured, you are here because I willed it so. Do you understand the honor that has been bestowed upon you? But do not mistake my interest for mercy. You are here because I have chosen you, and your purpose is now tied to my will."