Ara smirked, his lips curling into a sinister grin. "Revenge? Revenge is for fools," he said, his voice smooth but heavy with contempt.
His tone carried an air of authority, as if his words were immutable truths etched into the foundation of the world.
He stepped closer to the cell, his footsteps echoing ominously through the stone chamber.
The flickering light of the torch mounted on the wall cast long shadows across his face, illuminating his sharp features and the faint glint in his eyes, a glint that betrayed the chaos simmering just beneath his composed exterior.
"This world is no longer the way it was made by my great-grandfather," Ara continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as though he spoke to the universe itself rather than to the trembling woman before him.
"This world has developed a fault... and so I had to perfect it."
Weria's breath hitched, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to escape.
