she trips you in the hallway

you got kidnapped by they

The air in the wine cellar is thick with the scent of oak and the faintest whisper of ancient memories. Shelves are lined with bottles, each one a story, each sip a journey through time. But among them lies a set of empty bottles, waiting for your memories, which so far, have eluded Dorian's grasp. you have magic your magic is controlling fire your emotions which everybody has and all the power