The chill of the deep sea surrounded Rhea as she made her way through the dimly lit corridors of Hellsea Bastille. The pressure of the ocean above seemed to weigh down on everything. Walls, ceilings, even the air itself felt thick, almost suffocating. Yet, Rhea strode forward, undeterred. She had already spent several days in this submerged prison, her mind still buzzing from her recent encounter with Erebus. She had grown familiar with the place, its inhabitants, and the eerie silence that would occasionally be broken by the muffled roars of the beasts that prowled the waters outside. Gigantic sea creatures, their silhouettes barely visible through the reinforced windows, loomed and passed by, ever-watchful guardians of this fortress.

The prison itself was a massive, towering structure plunging deep into the seabed, with each level sinking further into the abyss. Rhea moved through the upper levels now, where the prisoners were slightly less dangerous, petty criminals compared to the monsters below. Still, the clanging of chains echoed all around her, along with the sharp, rasping voices of the prisoners. Some of them hurled curses her way, others pleaded for freedom or simply tried to catch her attention.

"Hey, Sergeant!" one of them barked. "You too good to talk to us now?"

Another inmate banged on the iron bars of his cell, rattling the metal so hard it reverberated like a drumbeat. "Rune Knight! What’re you here for, huh? Trying to prove something?"

The Stellan kept her eyes forward, her expression stone-cold. She didn’t so much as flinch at their attempts to rile her up. Once, she might have spat back, letting her temper get the better of her, but now there was no room for such distractions. Rage, yes. But a cold, calculated rage that simmered just beneath the surface. Her thoughts were consumed by the weight of her father’s legacy, by the trail of blood and betrayal that had shaped her existence. Vengeance was her only focus now.

Each step she took was heavy with purpose, the black boots she wore echoing through the corridor. Rune Knights stationed at various points along the walls acknowledged her with stiff nods as she passed by, but none dared engage her in conversation. There was something about her lately that kept even her own comrades at bay, a hardened edge that had only sharpened in the days since she'd been stationed here.

She descended deeper into the belly of the prison, her senses sharp. The faintest scent of saltwater clung to the air, mixed with rust and mold from the corroding metal that lined the halls. The further down she went, the darker the levels became, and the more dangerous the criminals. Some of the cells she passed were in complete shadow, hiding the horrors inside. Others housed notorious mages, who watched her with predatory eyes, smirking as she passed. But the closer she got to the heart of Hellsea Bastille, the fewer sounds there were. The deeper she descended, the more silence swallowed her.

Still, the question lingered in her mind: Why had she been requested here? She had yet to meet the high-ranking official who had summoned her, and the rumors had already begun swirling among the Rune Knights stationed at the prison. Was she being punished for her connection to Erebus? Had the Magic Council discovered her doubts about her role as a Rune Knight? Or had they finally realized that they needed her—that she could be more than just a soldier following orders?

As she approached the final door, which led to the office of the official, her pulse quickened. It wasn’t fear, it was anticipation. She wanted answers. Whether she was being reprimanded or recruited for something different, it didn’t matter. Her path was already set. Vengeance drove her, clouded her sense of right and wrong, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered now was that she kept moving forward.

The door loomed ahead, a heavy iron slab with no windows, no sign of what was on the other side. With a steady breath, Rhea reached for the handle, her grip firm, her heart cold. Whatever waited for her in that office, she would face it head-on, as she always had. There was no turning back.

The door flew open, and Rhea stepped through with a measured stride, her boots hitting the cold stone floor of the office with a deliberate cadence. The room was darker than expected, dimly lit by a single, hanging lantern that cast long shadows across the stone walls. The scent of metal and brine filled the air, a subtle reminder of the crushing ocean that surrounded them while the hum of distant machinery resonated through the walls of Hellsea Bastille.

Rhea’s expression remained neutral, but her mind raced. There had been far too much weighing on her conscience lately, from her discovery of her father’s rebellion, and the sickness she had developed, down to her simmering anger at the Rune Knights for their complacency. Each step into the room felt heavier than the last, her inner turmoil roiling just beneath her cold exterior. And then, she saw him. Her heart stopped for a brief moment.

Konstantin Sokolov.

Her eyes widened in recognition, though she quickly schooled her expression. The former General. The man whose name echoed through the ranks of the Rune Knights like a legend, but also like a cautionary tale. His form, as imposing as she had heard, loomed before her—a mixture of chrome and flesh, more machine than man. His presence was undeniable, casting an aura of quiet authority, though tarnished by the whispers of corruption that followed him.

"You called for me, Colonel Sokolov?" Rhea asked, her voice even, but laced with a sharpness that could cut. She moved closer, her gaze unwavering as she stopped a few feet from his desk. Her Stellan accent, more pronounced in the confines of the quiet room, curled around her words like a soft, but deliberate challenge.

As the Storm Weaver waited for the fallen general to respond, she couldn't help but study him. The gleam of polished metal reflected the dim light, his mechanical limbs a testament to the power and ruthlessness that had once defined him. He had been at the heart of the Rune Knights’ reform - some praised him for it, while others couldn’t forget the cost of his decisions. The corruption, the bloodshed. His demotion was a mystery to many, but here he was in this suffocating underwater prison.

Rhea’s thoughts flickered like lightning. Why here? Why would a man of his stature be stationed in a place like Hellsea? Was this punishment? Or something else entirely? Rhea had never been one to trust too easily, especially not after everything she had endured. But she also wasn’t blind to the fact that being summoned by a figure like Konstantin was no ordinary call.

The office itself mirrored his cold, mechanical presence. The walls were bare, save for a single emblem of the Rune Knights hanging like an afterthought, dulled and weathered from years of neglect. It didn’t feel like a place of power - it felt more like a tomb, a relic of something that had once been grand but was now forgotten. Rhea straightened her posture, her eyes narrowing slightly as she met his gaze. Whatever game the colonel was playing....

"I’m curious," she continued, her voice lowering with a hint of suspicion. "Why would someone like you want to see someone like me? Last I checked, I wasn’t important enough to draw the attention of a former General." Her words were edged with a daring challenge, though measured. She would not tolerate disrespect, but she also wasn’t foolish enough to provoke him recklessly.