The cave reeked of sulfur and rot. Shadows clung to the jagged walls like parasites, whispering secrets in forgotten tongues. At its heart stood a figure cloaked in black, his robe trailing like spilled ink across the stone. He had no face—only smoke where flesh should be, and limbs like brittle twigs bound by ancient curses.

They called him the *Dark Lord*, and none dared speak his true name.

Across the chamber, hunched in a throne of twisted roots and bone, sat a woman whose beauty had ...