Forbidden Tribute Chamber

The small room reeks of desiccated death, its walls lined with the same black stone as the rest of the Complex, unadorned except for the brittle remains of Anethan pinned to the far wall. The air is thick with the scent of dust and something older—parched lifeforce, long leached into the Nimon’s hunger. The flicker of Romana’s torch casts sharp shadows over the ruin’s curled fingers and hollowed ribs, revealing an anatomy not meant for display. The floor feels uneven underfoot, just enough to make each step uncertain, as though the stone itself recoils from bearing witness to such violation.