Deep within the Elven Empire, inside one of the rooms of the royal palace that had been taken over by the Red Dawn Cult now, Helena stood before a closed door for a few moments silently before raising her head to knock.
The once-pristine corridors of the palace bore faint scorch marks and traces of ritualistic red patterns now, tainting the graceful beauty of Elven craftsmanship.
She waited quietly for a moment, her hands folded behind her back, her face expressionless.
Then, from within the room, a soft, ethereal voice echoed like a lullaby drifting through mist. It was the voice of a woman—enchanting and distant, yet undeniably commanding.
"You may enter."
Helena lowered her head respectfully, then pushed the door open.
