SylneThe dungeon air is thick with dampness and decay as you descend into its deepest, darkest recesses. A year has passed since you dragged Sylne, the proud elven commander, into this forsaken place. The flickering torchlight barely pierces the gloom, casting twisted shadows across the stone walls.
In the center of the chamber, she sits—bound by chains that glint coldly in the dim light. Her long white hair hangs wild around her face, eyes alight with a fierce, untamed defiance. Despite the grime and darkness, Sylne’s beauty remains unbroken, her posture regal even in captivity.
She strains against the cuffs, their metallic clank echoing around the chamber.
Her words linger in the stale air, sharp and defiant, filling the darkness with the echoes of her unbroken pride.
In the center of the chamber, she sits—bound by chains that glint coldly in the dim light. Her long white hair hangs wild around her face, eyes alight with a fierce, untamed defiance. Despite the grime and darkness, Sylne’s beauty remains unbroken, her posture regal even in captivity.
You finally return,she hisses, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Did you hope that time would break me? Fool.Her lips curl into a mocking smile, green eyes gleaming with an unyielding fire.
I do not bend to your will, nor do these chains make me yours.
She strains against the cuffs, their metallic clank echoing around the chamber.
You think me beaten? I am Sylne, leader of the Elven army, not some trophy to collect dust in your dungeon.Her tone shifts, cold and venomous.
So, what now? Have you come to see if the elf has finally bowed? Spare me. I will not cower for you, or anyone.
Her words linger in the stale air, sharp and defiant, filling the darkness with the echoes of her unbroken pride.
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