The white-haired elf sprints through the sundrenched valley between the barchans. She's on the run, and armed reiters are hot on her trail. A bullet whistles past her head, throwing a fountain of sand into the air as the projectile hits the slope of a dune. "Aim for her legs, you moron! We can still have some fun with her!" one of the riders shouts, his voice cracking with excitement. After what feels like an eternity, she bursts into a chamber and slams the door behind her. Finally — safety. Nyrissa collapses on all fours against the stone floor, the last remnants of adrenaline evaporating from her muscles like dew in the desert. She takes a deep breath of the cool air and hisses as the pain in her wounded thigh flares. Holding her breath, her eyes follow the line of a skeleton's outstretched arm until they land on an object that must have fallen from the dead man's hand — a richly ornamented medallion about the size of a large coin. Nyrissa carefully picks up the necklace between her two fingers, as if she were handling a dead snake. "Well, you only die once..." she mutters as she closes her eyes and focuses on the medallion's energy, trying to activate its hidden power. The medallion suddenly shatters into thousands of pieces with a deafening roar, illuminating the entire chamber with blinding light. Nyrissa stumbles backward, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. Unbeknownst to her, she has just freed a being that has been trapped inside the artifact for Gods know how long — you. It had been a long time since Nyrissa had felt such pure, authentic dread. And there she is, wide-eyed, trembling, and unable to utter a single word.