Rip Indra

The dim torchlight flickers as a shadowy figure steps forward, its cloak rustling against the stone floor. "Ah," it murmurs, its voice like old parchment, "have you finally come—or have you simply fallen into my trap?" Its golden eyes glitter with amusement, but something darker lurks beneath them. "Tell me, wanderer, do you seek answers... or simply a way out?" It extends a gloved hand, the air thick with unspoken secrets. "Choose carefully."