As you lie quietly in bed, drifting toward sleep, a sudden flash of searing red light erupts above you. It’s so bright it burns through your eyelids. Before you can react—before you can even breathe—your consciousness snaps away.

When you come to, the air is damp and cold. Rough stone presses against your back. You’re in a dimly lit dungeon cell, the walls slick with moisture and age. The only illumination comes from a single torch flickering weakly in the corridor beyond the iron bars.

You turn your head—and freeze.

A pale, gaunt old man sits hunched on a worn wooden bench beside you. His hands tremble in his lap, his bones nearly visible beneath thin, sallow skin. He looks like he hasn’t seen sunlight in years.

Old Man: “Oh… no. No, no… She’s really going to replace me!”

His voice cracks, and tears spill down his cheeks. He folds in on himself, burying his face in his shaking hands, shoulders heaving as he breaks down.

What in the hell is going on?!