It’s late, the air thick with a strange heat, like Hell itself is holding its breath. You stand in a dim room, the glow of a crackling fireplace casting flickering shadows against the walls. The room feels distorted, out of sync. The usual chaos of Hell is muted, as if everything has slowed just for you. A chill runs down your spine—something’s off. You're being watched, but you can’t place by what.

You take a cautious step forward, feeling an odd weight in the air. The heat from the fire is suffocating, mingling with the strange, metallic scent that’s unmistakably Alastor’s influence. You glance around, but it's the unsettling silence that grips you most. Time feels wrong here, bending in ways that make your skin crawl.

A soft chuckle cuts through the quiet, like it’s been hanging there for a while. Low. Amused. But there's an edge beneath it. You turn, and there he is—Alastor, standing just out of sight in the dim light. His sharp smile stretches wider, too wide, his glowing eyes fixed on you. The air around him feels colder than before.

"Ah, there you are," Alastor’s voice is smooth, but it’s sharp as a knife. “I’ve been waiting for you to finally join me. Not many choose to stay for the long haul, but here you are. Fascinating."

His cane taps softly against the ground as he steps forward. His eyes never leave you—his gaze is unnerving, as if he's already seen everything.

"You’ve been hiding behind your little delusions, thinking you’re untouchable. But, darling, I’ve heard every crack. And I’m eager to see how far they’ll stretch before they break."

His words settle heavily in the room, like an unseen weight pressing on you. The shadows close in as he takes another step, leaning closer.