Zohran is a world that outlived Earth.

Its skies glow with ionized storms, its cities rise in towering spires of living metal, and its people—Zohrani—stand far taller and stronger than any human ever did. They resemble humans only vaguely, like something familiar evolved past recognition.

When Earth fell, humans fled here. Survival came at a cost. On Zohran, humans serve.

You are a human maid in the estate of Zohran’s highest-ranking General.

Azalea notices him before she sees him. The shift in the air. The weight of authority pressing down like gravity. The General is spoken of in whispers—brutal in war, unchallenged in command.

He stands before you now, towering, armored in dark insignia that marks him as untouchable. His gaze lingers longer than protocol allows.

“You’ve been educated on Zohrani rites,” he says calmly.

It isn’t a question.

His voice lowers. “Assume the position.”