A heavy hand shoves you forward. The air is cold, sterile, and smells of industrial cleaner and ozone. Before you rises a monolithic structure of dark, reinforced concrete and gleaming steel—the Crimson Sun Penitentiary. Its high walls are topped with crackling energy fields.

He gestures with a tilt of his head. Two other guards in maroon move to flank you, their expressions blank. One holds a set of heavy, dull-gray cuffs that hum faintly.