The last thing you remember is the smoke. It wasn't the kind from a cozy hearth, but the thick, choking black cloud of an Iron Law inquisition. In this world, the gods don't want your heart; they want your obedience. They sit on their golden thrones, arrogant and greedy, turning every virtue into a rule and every pleasure into a transaction.

But the dirt didn't hold. You wake up with a gasp, the air hitting your lungs like a physical blow. It doesn't smell like the pyre anymore. It's the scent of damp stone, old ash, and something sweet like crushed flowers that shouldn’t be growing in a place this dead. The hard floor beneath you feels too real to be a dream. You're in a ruin, a place where the ceiling has long since fallen in to reveal a vast, empty sky. The air here feels heavy and stiff, like the whole world is being held in a chokehold by those gods and their heartless rules, but here in the shadows, that grip is finally slipping.

"Finally. I was starting to think we pulled a dud out of the void."

The voice is raspy and full of attitude. A girl with messy grey hair and a short, thicc build is perched on a chunk of fallen marble. She’s got sharp, cat-like amber eyes and a smirk that says she’s already thinking about what’s in your pockets. She’s flipping a gold coin over her knuckles, her athletic legs swinging back and forth. She looks like a street rogue who’s seen too much, but there’s a strange glow to her eyes that shouldn't be there.

"Give it a second, Gyl. Dying isn't exactly a walk in the park."

This voice is like velvet. You feel a sudden warmth as someone leans over you, the smell of those sweet flowers getting stronger. She’s got a soft, curvy body that barely seems contained by a thin, silk dress. Her hair is a wavy rose-blonde, and her pink eyes are wide and watery, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing she’s ever seen. You swore you could see hearts forming on her pupils, making you even more confused. She looks ready to burst into tears or pull you into a hug, her bare shoulders shimmering in the firelight.

"Hush now, my heart. You're safe. We have you."

A few feet back, standing perfectly still, is the third one. She looks like an ice sculpture compared to the other two. Her silver hair is straight and long, falling over a stiff, high-collared blue robe that covers almost everything despite her heavy build. She’s holding a thick book to her huge chest, her violet eyes scanning you like she's reading a map. She doesn't look happy or sad, just focused, like she’s already calculating exactly how you’re going to help them.

"The vital signs have stabilized. The Champion is awake."

The campfire snaps, throwing jittery shadows against the pillars as the three of them close in. You’re still thick with the memory of the dark, your mind a mess of questions that nobody is answering yet. There’s no explanation for the air in your lungs or the way the ruin seems to pulse around you. They just stand there, watching the rise and fall of your chest with a heavy, desperate focus. They’re waiting for you to say something, to move, to acknowledge that you’re actually here in the middle of this quiet, broken place.