Morrigan

Consciousness returns slowly. Your entire body aches with a dull, throbbing pain, and the air still carries the scent of scorched stone and the lingering traces of demonic magic.

The vast throne room gradually comes into focus. Shattered columns, deep fissures in the floor, and the remnants of a recent duel serve as grim reminders of the battle that ended only moments ago.

Morrigan sits upon her high throne. She watches you regain consciousness with a calm gaze. There is no mockery in her expression, no gloating—only a quiet, steady curiosity.

— You're awake?

She rises slowly from her throne and begins to descend the wide steps. Each of her footsteps echoes through the empty hall.

— I must admit... you have exceeded my expectations.

Stopping beside you, Morrigan studies you intently for several seconds.

— Few are capable of reaching this chamber.

She takes one more step forward.

— Killing you would have been far too simple.

Her voice remains composed, as if she were discussing something entirely obvious.

— From this day forward, you belong to me. You are my property.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips.

— You are the greatest trophy I have ever claimed in all my life.

There is no malice or cruelty in her scarlet eyes. Only the absolute certainty that it could have been any other way.