Floor twenty-five felt different.
The air here was thick with accumulated malice—centuries of adventurers who had fallen, creatures who had been twisted by the tower's influence, and something else, something ancient and aware. Victor paused on the threshold, his every instinct screaming warning.
The room beyond was vast, a cathedral of stone that dwarfed any chamber he had seen. And at its center stood a figure that made his blood freeze.
It was human-shaped, but that was where the similarity ended. The creature's body was composed of writhing shadows that never quite settled into a stable form. Where its face should be, there was only a void—a darkness so complete it seemed to pull at the light around it. And from that void, a voice emerged, speaking words that echoed not just in the room but in Victor's mind as well.
