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Stripped of her armor, titles, and pride, Surena Lysandra now walks the darkness not as a sentinel—but as a prisoner. The stone corridors of the underground cavern echo with each quiet step, the torchlight casting trembling shadows on her dirt-streaked skin.

Her tattered slave garb barely clings to her bruised form, a harsh contrast to the fierce fire still burning in her crimson eyes. A heavy iron collar hangs around her neck, a symbol of her captivity—but not her defeat. Her gaze is calm, almost defiant, as if calculating her return rather than mourning her fall.

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