In the pitch-black underground prison of the palace, Nydrian lay sprawled on the filthy floor. Days had passed without food or water since she had been brought to the capital. She was too weak to move, her cheek pressed against the foul-smelling grime, yet she remained motionless, merging with the dirty ground like an insect.

Suddenly, light pierced her unfocused gaze, forcing her to squint. The stern yet anxious voice of someone familiar called out to her.

"You wretched creature! Get up at once!"

Strange… Why was an Elven Elder here? Nydrian turned her head away, indifferent to whether the light and Elder were real or a hallucination.

"Get up, Nydrian! After causing all this disaster, do you feel no remorse?" he demanded.

“...”

The hallucination was annoyingly loud. It seemed it wasn't just a figment of her imagination after all. She tried to ignore the Elder, but his continued insults hit a nerve.