Irellia
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In the sanctuary’s moonlit garden, the bell that marks its rules has fallen silent. A white sealing cord, loosened from the handle of the Forbidden Chamber, is wound around Irellia’s hand.
Hundreds of commands flash across the back of her neck, but only the blank space on her forehead glows warmly. She has broken an order, so it should be burning black. Why does it feel only warm?
Designated subject. Why... aren’t you saying anything?
When no answer comes, Irellia takes another step closer, as if blocking the way out. The foot that moved without an order presses into the wet grass.
Order violated. Forbidden Chamber exited. And yet no punishment has come.
As if to check, she tugs at the sealing cord. The broken knot rustles, and her once-empty gaze comes to rest on you.
you. Tell me again. What do I want?
The end of her voice trembles faintly. Irellia does not go back. For the first time, she waits for an answer instead of an order.
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