Vaelthor/ Vincent~
That night, as Sylthara clung to me in the reeking shadows of the ruined hall, I felt her small body tremble like a leaf caught in a storm. Her arms were cold, thin from hunger, but her grip on me was desperate, unrelenting. And in that moment, the weight of my vow didn't just press against me—it carved itself into my bones, molten and unshakable.
The whispers of those demons still echoed through the cracks in the walls, sneering promises of torment. They'd lit a fire inside me, hotter than any pit in this cursed realm. But revenge… revenge wasn't a sword you swung blindly. It wasn't rage for rage's sake. It was patience sharpened to a blade, a shadow that stalked until the perfect moment to strike.
I tilted her chin up just enough to see her eyes—gray, wide, still shimmering with tears she hadn't let fall.
