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... —thick, suffocating, and cold as hell. No torches, no chamber, just an endless void that prickled his skin.

"Where the fuck am I?" he muttered, voice echoing into nothing. He staggered to his feet, hands groping the air. Nothing to grab onto, just empty black.

A voice hit him—deep, domineering, but ragged, like it was dragging itself out of a grave. "So Xandor died, huh?"

Leon flinched, heart slamming against his ribs. The sound came from everywhere—above, below, wrapping ...

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