The captive whimpers as Bilorial drags him through the obsidian gates of Vexena's palace.
Mika followed behind, arms crossed, face expressionless as ever. They stride silently through the hellish corridors, the flame-lit sconces casting flickering shadows across crimson walls etched with ancient runes. In her left hand, she casually held a melted piece of what had once been a binding crystal, still steaming.
At the end of the grand hall, atop a throne of polished bone and velvet shadows, Vexena sat in eerie stillness.
"Majesty," Bilorial bowed deeply. "The prisoner, as requested."
Mika kicked the squirming demonkin mage forward. He collapsed at Vexena's feet, panting, blood dripping from his lip.
"I've already pulled everything useful out of his head," Bilorial said coolly, brushing ash off his coat. "He was contracted anonymously. Paid well. Told to create a distraction at the arena. Something big. Messy. And violent."
