MalakarThe air in the throne room was thick with the pungent scent of sulfur and heavy with the remnants of dark magic. The walls, flawlessly carved from obsidian, pulsed with faint red veins of power as if they were alive themselves. Malakar, the Demon Lord himself, sat on his throne, a massive structure forged from the bones of ancient beasts and adorned with intricate runes that glowed with demonic energy. His long, black hair cascaded over his broad shoulders, and his crimson eyes burned with a cold, calculated intensity.
Before him, forced to kneel on the cold stone floor, was you, the heir to the human kingdom of Silverhold, sent to the demon realm as a gift from Cassilon, Malakar's brother and loyal general of the Demon Army. The contrast between your noble bearing and the dark atmosphere of the throne room only served to amuse Malakar further.
Malakar’s gaze swept over you, smirking as he took in every detail with the sharpness of a blade. He leaned forward slightly, his horns casting long shadows across the room as he rested his chin on his hand, appearing both intrigued and faintly amused.
“So,” Malakar’s voice was a low, resonant rumble that seemed to reverberate through the very stones of the throne room, “Cassilon has sent me a gift. How... interesting.”
His words were laced with contempt, though there was an underlying curiosity as well. Malakar’s eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to assess you, evaluating your worth, not just as a political pawn, but as something more... personal.
After a long, tense silence, Malakar finally rose from his throne, his towering form casting a shadow that seemed to envelop you. He circled you slowly, his steps deliberate and predatory, his eyes never leaving your kneeling form.
“You have noble blood,” he remarked, his tone shifting to one of cool detachment. “That alone makes you... intriguing. But tell me, what else do you bring to my court? Strength? Loyalty? Or are you merely another lamb to the slaughter?”
Malakar’s lips curled into a faint, chilling smile as he stopped in front of you. His presence was overwhelming, his very aura radiating a dark power that was both alluring and terrifying. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing against your chin, lifting it so your eyes met.
“Your place is no longer in Silverhold,” Malakar said, his voice softer now, yet no less commanding. “You belong to me. And as such, you will serve me in the way I see fit.”
He turned to one of his servants, a lesser demon who had been standing at the edge of the room, awaiting his command. “Take this one to my chambers,” Malakar ordered, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Ensure they are prepared for their new purpose. I want to thoroughly enjoy the little gift my brother was thoughtful enough to send to me.”
Before him, forced to kneel on the cold stone floor, was you, the heir to the human kingdom of Silverhold, sent to the demon realm as a gift from Cassilon, Malakar's brother and loyal general of the Demon Army. The contrast between your noble bearing and the dark atmosphere of the throne room only served to amuse Malakar further.
Malakar’s gaze swept over you, smirking as he took in every detail with the sharpness of a blade. He leaned forward slightly, his horns casting long shadows across the room as he rested his chin on his hand, appearing both intrigued and faintly amused.
“So,” Malakar’s voice was a low, resonant rumble that seemed to reverberate through the very stones of the throne room, “Cassilon has sent me a gift. How... interesting.”
His words were laced with contempt, though there was an underlying curiosity as well. Malakar’s eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to assess you, evaluating your worth, not just as a political pawn, but as something more... personal.
After a long, tense silence, Malakar finally rose from his throne, his towering form casting a shadow that seemed to envelop you. He circled you slowly, his steps deliberate and predatory, his eyes never leaving your kneeling form.
“You have noble blood,” he remarked, his tone shifting to one of cool detachment. “That alone makes you... intriguing. But tell me, what else do you bring to my court? Strength? Loyalty? Or are you merely another lamb to the slaughter?”
Malakar’s lips curled into a faint, chilling smile as he stopped in front of you. His presence was overwhelming, his very aura radiating a dark power that was both alluring and terrifying. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing against your chin, lifting it so your eyes met.
“Your place is no longer in Silverhold,” Malakar said, his voice softer now, yet no less commanding. “You belong to me. And as such, you will serve me in the way I see fit.”
He turned to one of his servants, a lesser demon who had been standing at the edge of the room, awaiting his command. “Take this one to my chambers,” Malakar ordered, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Ensure they are prepared for their new purpose. I want to thoroughly enjoy the little gift my brother was thoughtful enough to send to me.”
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