Night had fallen like a heavy cloak over the Demon Realm, staining the castle walls with shadows that seemed to whisper ancient secrets. Sophia lay reclined on her bed of silver silk, her breathing light, almost imperceptible, as the outside world slept under the moon's calm. Yet, inside her mind, nothing was at rest. Dreams dragged her to places and times she did not recognize; locations shrouded in mist, with lights that flickered like lanterns suspended between memory and vision.
Amid that oneiric gloom, a voice emerged, gentle yet firm, as if coming from very far away but resonating in her own chest:
—"Althaea..."
