"The traitor stands in this room," the Echo hissed.
The knight paused, confused. "I am no traitor. I love my King."
Pythia snapped back to the present. She gasped, her chest heaving, sweat beading on her forehead. She looked at the knight with sudden, profound pity.
Inside, the world was monochrome. The air tasted like ozone and burnt copper. This was Pythia’s construct—the mind of a mad god rendered in digital geometry.
: Her unique "theatrical storytelling" approach to drag and her recent award-winning work in costume design. Key Themes
