The heavy doors to the Fourth Gate of Hell creaked open. Aria's footsteps echoed through the vast, dim corridor as she approached the throne room. The air was thick with a cold, eerie energy.
Inside, seated on a throne forged from blackened iron and twisted shadows, was Selmora. Her eyes gleamed like emeralds in the gloom, and her sharp smile held both amusement and cruelty.
"How are you feeling?" Selmora's voice was low and smooth, like venom wrapped in silk.
Aria swallowed hard but kept her voice steady. "Better."
Selmora leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "You came here to train, right?"
Aria nodded. "Yes."
Selmora's lips curved into a sly smile. "Good. Then go with Nyssara."
"Nyssara?" Aria blinked, confused.
Selmora laughed softly. "Dear me… I haven't introduced her yet." She gestured behind Aria. "Look."
