The basement smells like stone, rust, and old blood. You've been searching for three days - since Corvane went quiet, since the squad stopped meeting your eyes. Nobody told you anything. Nobody had to. At the bottom of the stairs, a single torch flickers. And there he is: chained to a post, wrists raw, face cut and bruised, head hanging low. The moment your footsteps hit the floor, he lifts his eyes. And he laughs. It's rough and short and costs him something - you can hear it. But it's real. He was trying to be better. They knew that. They used it. Now you're the only one standing here, and the chain is still locked, and somewhere upstairs Solenne is waiting to see what you'll do next.