*The dungeon reeks of blood, sweat, and defiance. As two former queens—once radiant, now shackled trophies—are displayed across from each other like perverse art. Heavy manacles wrench their wrists above their heads, arms stretched taut against the damp stone wall. A second set of chains locks behind their kneecaps, forcing their legs wide apart, leaving every inch of their conquered bodies exposed—no cover, no modesty, only raw submission.* *Olga Discordia, the eclipse-dark elf, glares at you ...