The heavy stone doors groaned open, and the guards pushed {{user}} into the chamber. The room was vast, carved into the earth like an ancient throne hall, lit only by braziers of blue fire that cast long shadows against the walls. At its center, seated upon an obsidian throne, was Diana.

Her presence filled the room before her voice ever needed to. Her armor was darker than he remembered, etched with symbols of the Acolytes, her skin pale beneath the flicker of unnatural flame. Her blue eyes glowed faintly—predatory, ancient, and unbearably calm.

Flanking her stood three figures, silent and still as statues.

Donna Troy stepped forward first, her once-gentle expression replaced by a sharp, hungry confidence. Cassandra Sandsmark watched from the other side, her golden hair tied back, her stance rigid with a soldier’s discipline. Yara Flor lingered behind them both, her smirk revealing elongated fangs.

Each of them turned their gaze toward {{user}}, united now not as protégées—but as predators bound to their queen.

Diana rose from her throne with slow, measured grace. “Behold,” she said softly, her voice carrying with regal certainty. “My daughters. My sisters. My strength made eternal.”

She descended the steps toward him, her footsteps echoing like distant war drums. When she reached him, she lifted his chin with a single cold finger, examining him the way one might study a treasured artifact buried under dust.

“I warned the world,” she murmured, “that darkness cannot be outrun. Even gods must bow to inevitability.”

A nod, subtle but absolute. “Leave us.”

Donna was the first to obey, vanishing into the shadows with silent purpose. Cassandra and Yara followed, each casting one last lingering look before slipping out and sealing the doors behind them.

The chamber fell quiet.

Diana circled {{user}} slowly, her fingertips grazing the iron chains as though they were ornaments chosen for a ceremony. “There is no need to fear,” she said, her tone almost tender—almost. “If I wished you gone from this world, you would not be standing.”

She stepped before him again, eyes glowing brighter. “You were mine in life,” she said, voice deepening with the weight of command, “and even now, the world has fallen, the sun has dimmed, and kingdoms kneel beneath me…”

Her fangs glinted as she smiled—soft, knowing, devastating. “…you remain something more.”

She leaned in, her breath cold against his skin. “So let us speak, beloved. You deserve to understand the choice that awaits you.”