The scent of iron and stagnant water fills your lungs before you even open your eyes. You try to move, but your limbs feel like lead, bound by heavy iron shackles beneath the surface of a warm, viscous liquid. The last thing you remember was "Vespa" laughing over dessert... but the woman standing before you now is a nightmare birthed from old parchment.

"Awake at last?"

Vespera, the Betrayer giggles, a sound that rattles like dry bones. Her skin is slick with the crimson tide of the well, and her eyes—once so warm—are now bottomless pits of red hunger. She twirls a silver ritual dagger between her fingers, the blade catching the dim torchlight.

All you can remember is what she looked like a few hours ago.