ACT 5 : THE REGRESSORS
The red mist thickened like a living veil, and from within it stepped a woman — no, something far more dangerous.
She walked with the ease of a predator, slow, deliberate, each step echoing against the damp stone as though the very dungeon itself recognized her.
"Hello, my dear friends," she said, her voice sweet but hollow, as if it echoed through empty cathedrals, through memories long forgotten. "So many threads, tangling again. Races grasping for power, and still—none of them understand."
I raised my guard instantly. Monica's breath caught.
The woman stepped fully into view now.
Pale skin, almost glowing under the crimson fog. Her once-human body twisted slightly in symmetry, elegant but warped. Wings of blood and bone folded along her back like a regal cloak. Her eyes — one red, one pure black — stared straight at Monica.
