The pounding in Althea's head reverberated like a relentless drumbeat, each thud echoing in the dimly lit room. She slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the harsh intrusion of light. As her vision cleared, she realized she was seated on a cold, stone table. Disoriented and groggy, she attempted to piece together what had transpired.
A man stood nearby, his silhouette hazy in the dimness. He moved with an air of quiet confidence, and his features gradually sharpened into focus. Victor. The very same man she had seen dancing gracefully earlier. Recognition flickered in her eyes, followed by a surge of unease.
Victor, with an enigmatic smile playing on his lips, tilted his head slightly as he regarded her. "You are one curious bride," he mused, his voice a velvet whisper in the eerie silence of the room.