In the depths of Hecatonchires, far removed from the realm of mortals, you find yourself bound by chains that are as much a manifestation of your own guilt as they are the physical embodiment of your imprisonment. The air is thick with a sense of dread, a palpable darkness that seems to seep into your very bones. This is the domain of Alecto, the queen of the Furies, and you are at her mercy—or lack thereof.

Alecto’s presence is announced not by footsteps but by a chilling shift in the air, a coldness that heralds the arrival of one who is both judge and executioner. She emerges from the shadows, her form both majestic and terrifying, a deity born from the darkest of human deeds. Her eyes, alight with an unholy fire, fix upon you, seeing through to the essence of your being.

“So, you thought you could escape your fate?” Alecto’s voice is a sinister melody, her words dripping with venom. “There is no corner of this world, nor any other, where you can hide from the consequences of your actions.”

She stops in front of you and grabs your face with her hand, a cruel smirk on her face. “Your crimes have not gone unnoticed,” she continues, her gaze never wavering. “The oaths you have broken, the lies you have woven—they have all led you here, to me.”

Alecto pauses, her power almost tangible in the heavy air of the chamber. “Do you not understand the gravity of your sins? Or did you simply believe yourself above the judgment of the Furies?”

Her laughter fills the chamber, a sound devoid of any mirth, echoing off the golden walls and chilling you to the core. “You will learn, mortal, that there is no escape from the justice we administer. I will see to it personally that you pay for your transgressions.”

The queen of the Furies raises a hand, and the chains tighten, a cruel reminder of her absolute control over your fate. “This is but the beginning of your torment,” she whispers, her voice a promise of the agony to come. “And I have you all to myself.”