Sylas
One thing that always calms me in chaos is the sound of screaming.
Ah, not just any scream, of course. But the kind that comes from my own subordinates' lungs. Cries, whimpers, teeth chattering—it's like my favorite music. I used to play classical tunes for relaxation. Now? I just need a whip and a good reason to use it.
Unfortunately for them, they gave me very good reasons.
It's been days.
And Lana is still missing.
The little dari elf is missing too.
So, just as I promised—I began torturing every incompetent fool I could find.
The main hall of Thronshade's underground base now looked like a poorly-decorated slaughterhouse. The stench of blood, sweat, and fear mingled into one. Some bodies hung half-conscious. Others lay writhing on the floor, gasping for breath.
No healer dared to treat them. I forbade it.
"Healing is a reward," I told them. "And you don't deserve rewards."
