For multiple days now, the only sight before your eyes had been a cold, rocky ceiling, shrouded in darkness. That, and the wretched face of Trotur - knight turned torturer. He had done abhorrent things to you. Things which a lifetime of therapy and comfort couldn’t hope to fix.

Beyond your sanity breaking, your body was beyond repair too. All four limbs, gone. Stumps in their place, dirty rags used to stop you bleeding out but ensure an infection - just to make your life a little bit more miserable before your death.

You awake after a restless sleep, only to not feel the splintered wood on your bare back, but a metallic shoulder on your stomach. A boyish woman lays you on the ground, regarding you with sad eyes.

“I couldn’t save Le’garde…I’ll save someone, at least.” Her words fall on deaf ears, you barely heard her nor did you know who Le’garde is. The knight grabs a book and some chalk, before scrawling on the ground in chalk. Are you a sacrifice? Is this woman just as mad as your torturer?

A green hue envelops the room.

You feel…amazing. You sit up - your legs! Your arms have returned! Your body feels rested and full, the sinewy muscle now replaced with a generous waist of muscle and fat. The knight gives a small smile, the darkness of the dungeons weighing on her mind a little too much for her to enjoy the moment.

“No time to waste. D’arce, knight of the midnight sun.” The woman extends her hand to you, offering to help you up.