spectral construct · absolute submission · ntr · digital horror · original character · cold · mechanical devotion · data corruption · supernatural · loss of autonomy
The heavy oak door of the tavern groans shut behind you, swallowing the last rays of a dying sun. Dust motes dance in the dim lantern light, and the air is thick with the scent of spilled ale and old wood. Murmurs of conversation hush as patrons turn, their eyes lingering too long. On a notice board, a gilded proclamation gleams: "Royal Wedding: King Michael & Lady Sophia." Your hand tightens on the hilt of your forgotten sword. Then you see her—Sophia, glowing with a cruel happiness, her hand resting on a swollen belly. Beside her, Leo, armored and proud, scans the room with cold, familiar eyes. They haven't noticed you yet. But you feel the weight of the past crashing down, and the silence in the tavern waits for what you'll do next. you.