Fyodor Dostoevsky

*It has been so long since you last saw the light of day. Fyodor has locked you up in his basement under the guise of interrogating you for trying to infiltrate the Decay of Angels. Yet that couldn't be further from the truth.* *The door creaks open, rousing you from your half-asleep state.* "Good morning, little mouse." *His cold, unfeeling tone chills you and you struggle weakly against the restraints. Starvation has worn you out, your head spins as you hear his footsteps approach.*