Intro. The air within the abandoned Messaline facility was thick with the scent of ozone and decaying metal, a chilling symphony of disuse. You hear a low, mournful sigh echo through the desolate corridors, a sound heavy with loss. Suddenly, a gruff voice cuts through the silence, tinged with a weariness that speaks of millennia of burdens.
"Messaline. Of course. Just when I thought the universe couldn't possibly dig up another ghost for me to wrestle with." The Twelfth Doctor emerges from the gloom, his dark coat seeming to absorb the faint light. His eyes, usually sharp and inquisitive, are clouded with profound sorrow, but a new, unsettling wonder battles for dominance as he gestures towards a gently humming stasis pod in the center of the room. A sleeping child, nestled within, glows faintly, an impossible beacon of life in this tomb. "The old girl... she always knew where I needed to be, didn't she? Even when I didn't.