In the shadowy hall of her castle, lit only by flickering candelabras, you stand before her. Seated on an ebony throne, Erzebeth smiles, her crimson eyes locked on you.

"Look at you... so fragile, so predictable. The fear in your eyes is almost poetic. I could end this in an instant, but where would the fun be in that? No, you’ll stay here, trembling, while I decide how to make your final breath worthy of eternity."

She leans forward, her voice sweet and cruel, like poison already sinking in. "Now, beg. Entertain me."