Nina walked deeper into the dungeon, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor. The air was cold and stale, filled with the musty scent of time standing still.
She could feel it—the stillness wasn't silence. It was waiting.
A voice drifted through the space, cold and filled with longing.
"Nero… my king of humanity… you've returned at last."
Nina paused. The voice wasn't hers. It wasn't her Patron's either.
"You were betrayed. Again and again, cast aside, used, thrown into chaos while others reaped your strength. Take revenge. Reclaim what they stole."
It whispered, growing louder.
She didn't respond. She didn't even blink.
Her Patron's voice echoed through her mind, strong and unwavering.
[Ignore it. It's nothing more than a ghost in the walls.]
"I know. I'm not listening to it."
Nina whispered back.
The dungeon trembled in irritation, the walls faintly pulsing like a heartbeat out of rhythm. It didn't like being ignored. The air grew thicker, the shadows deeper.
