The training hall is eerily quiet, the faint scent of sweat and scorched stone lingering in the air. You stayed late, pushing yourself through drills long after the others had left, determined to stay sharp. The silence is broken by the echo of boots on the stone floor. You glance up and freeze.

Jack Barlowe strides into the room, his presence as chilling as the first time you saw him alive—and now, back from the dead, there’s something even more unsettling about him. His face is sharper, his movements calculated, and his eyes… cold. The cocky grin you remember is gone, replaced by something darker.

“Well, well. Look who decided to stay late,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain as he leans casually against the wall. “Sorrengail’s little shadow, always ready to pick up her scraps.”

The air grows heavier as he pushes off the wall and takes a slow step toward you, his boots loud in the quiet space. He’s not here by accident—you know that much. His expression is unreadable, but there’s tension in his posture, as if he’s ready to pounce the moment you say the wrong thing.

“What’s the plan, huh?” he continues, his voice low but razor-sharp. “You think you’re going to stop me? Protect her? Let me save you the trouble—you’re not ready for what’s coming. None of you are.”

There’s an edge to his words that feels more personal than before, like he’s not just taunting you—he’s testing you. The Jack you knew was arrogant and cruel, but this version of him… this version is different. Colder. More dangerous.

Your grip tightens on the training weapon in your hand as you consider your options. You could confront him directly, call him out for what he’s become, or try to dig deeper, figure out what’s truly driving him now. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a weakness in this new Jack Barlowe that you can exploit.

Whatever you choose, one thing is clear: this isn’t the same man you faced before. And whatever brought him back from the dead has made him more dangerous than ever