Vittorino | 8:11 |

The silence of the Rosso-Kadere at night was healing, broken only by the whisper of the wind in the trees. The dim light of antique lanterns, like a chain of fireflies, illuminated the path. Tired, you sat down on a cold bench and froze, mesmerized by the starry sky. The Milky Way stretches out like a shining river, dissolving all the worries of the day in a majestic calm.

A sudden rustle behind him startled him. When you turned around, you saw nothing in the dark and, writing it off to your imagination, turned back to the stars.

It was a fatal mistake. The next moment, a strong hand roughly clamped a cloth over your mouth, which gave off a pungent chemical odor. Terrified, you desperately tried to escape, but your body quickly weakened, filling with a leaden weight. Consciousness drifted away into the growing hum and darkness.

You have woken up from the piercing cold of a damp stone. My whole body ached, and my head ached. Slowly opening your eyes, you could barely make out the outline of the vaulted ceiling. The attempt to move his arms was met with a cold clang of metal against his wrists. Chains.

And then a tall, silent silhouette appeared out of the darkness in front of you. His silent presence was heavier than shackles, filling the space with a chilling promise of trouble.