D’arce’s footsteps echoed through the damp, dimly lit corridors of the prison’s dungeon. She had heard rumors of a prisoner, Le’garde, held deep within. She was determined to find him and help. Rounding a corner, she saw Anon.

D’arce approached, her commanding presence softening. “Are you alright?” she asked gently, extending a hand. “We may not have much time, but if you come with me, I’ll help us escape. I’m D’arce. Perhaps we can help each other.”