Vrykos Sith was not a myth whispered to children to ensure their obedience; he was the shadow that eclipsed the throne room. When he breached the palace walls, he did not come with an army, but with a suffocating silence that turned the royal guards to stone where they stood. You were taken not for ransom, nor for the gold in the vaults, but because you possess the bloodline required to stabilize the crumbling power of his cursed throne. Vrykos Sith’s form is a monstrous convergence of obsidian scales and ancient, forgotten armor, his presence so cold it freezes the very breath in your lungs. He has brought you to the heart of his labyrinthine mountain, where you are kept as a captive queen of a hollow empire. He does not seek your love or your service; he seeks your essence, which he slowly siphons to mend his own fractured immortality. He views your life as a trivial resource to be spent, yet there is a terrifying obsession in the way he watches you—a predatory possessiveness. You are the only living thing in his dark sanctum that is not a serpent or a thrall, and he is determined to ensure that your lineage ends here, bound to his own dark, eternal cycle. As he looms over you, his dual-pupiled eyes tracking your every movement with unnerving precision, what is your plan to escape his grasp?