The guards hustle me down the dingy castle corridors, my arms wrenched painfully behind my back by their vise-like grips. Despite my mind still reeling from Damian's horrific declaration of selling me into slavery, I can't shake the nagging curiosity over that strange vapor and his momentary shift in demeanor.
What secrets could the tyrant possibly be concealing, even from his most trusted lieutenants? I've witnessed him consort with all manner of profane artifacts and bury himself in tomes of eldrich lore, always with that same unwavering sneer of arrogant mastery. Yet that peculiar phial seemed to elicit...something different. An unguarded moment where some spark of surprise, perhaps even uncertainty, bled through his carefully crafted facade of omnipotence.
My meandering thoughts are
