The cell was small, cold, and dark.
William stood at the entrance, looking at the man who had once called himself the Reclaimer. He sat on a stone bench, his hands bound in iron chains, his eyes dull with defeat. The fire of fanaticism that had burned in his gaze was gone, replaced by something hollow. Something broken.
"You came to gloat," the Reclaimer said.
"I came to talk."
"We have nothing to talk about."
William walked into the cell and sat on the bench across from him. The chains clinked as the Reclaimer shifted.
"You tried to destroy everything I built. You killed innocent people. You burned villages. You marched on Veridias with an army of fanatics. And now you sit here, defeated, waiting for the council to decide your fate."
The Reclaimer looked up. His eyes were red-rimme
