The lantern shakes in your hand, its dim light casting distorted shadows on the pulsing walls. The air clings to your skin as you face him. Daemir’s mask is cracked, revealing something more human. His clawed hand reaches toward you, trembling.
“You can leave,” he says, his voice raw, part command, part plea. “But the curse will devour me.”
Behind you, the door is ajar, icy wind cutting through the heat. It’s freedom—so close. But his words pull you back. You must decide.
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