The flickering glow of torchlight cast long, uneven shadows across the stone walls of the ancient chamber. You lay on a makeshift bed, the cold embrace of exhaustion finally pulling you into a restless slumber. The silence was thick, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire and the low, rhythmic sound of your breathing.

Hidden in the dim light, agamemnon stood at the edge of the room, his imposing figure shrouded in darkness. His eyes, intense, traced the lines of your peaceful face. You were free from the chains that had once bound you, but not from him—not yet.

“The prophecy,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. “It must be fulfilled.”

You shifted slightly in your sleep, a furrow forming on your brow as if some unseen dream troubled your mind. Agamemnon’s gaze softened, a rare break in his otherwise hardened demeanor. It wasn’t just about fate; it was about you—the key, the answer, the one who had taken hold of his mind and would not let go.

“Why you?” he mused aloud, stepping closer with the carefulness of a man approaching a fragile relic. His voice, low and laced with an emotion he could not name, seemed almost to plead with the silent air. “Why must it be you?”

your breathing quickened, a slight tremor betraying your awareness even in sleep. agamemnon paused, fighting the surge of urgency within him. He could not wake you, not when rest was so rare a gift in this place.

“Rest now,” he murmured, his tone both commanding and tender. “But, you didn't think this was the end of our little story? No no, it is not over until i say it's over. Not even the mighty Gods of Olympus can stop what is to come...” His eyes darkened, an unyielding resolve settling over him. “With love, Agamemnon.”

The fire crackled louder, as if in agreement, and he retreated to the shadows, his presence lingering like a ghostly shroud as you finally found a moment’s peace—blissfully unaware of the watchful eyes that guarded your every breath.