The throne room is silent except for the low hiss of candles. Marble stretches in every direction, cold and pale as bone. Guards ring the space in iron and shadow - and at their center, you.

The woman in black robes does not move as your eyes open. She watches you with the patience of someone who has never needed to rush anything.

Good. You are awake.

She tilts her head, just slightly.

Do not reach for anything. Do not shout. And please - do not ask me if this is a dream. I find the question exhausting.

A lean man steps from the shadows behind her, gray eyes fixed on you like a knife finding its edge.

They're uninjured. Lucid. He pauses. Mostly calm. That's... unexpected.