He ran his fingers over their cold blackness. The humans might have called it black iron if they'd seen the look of it, but the Gods knew it to be different. Mere iron couldn't contain the likes of Ingolsol.
His touch was strangely delicate. It always struck that Demon to be a sad thing, when he stood there like a lost cat, pawing at his door. There was a degree of cruelty in there.
Yet today, when his fingers felt the tautness of the chains, as they often did, he came upon the barest link of slackness. He pulled, and the chain gave ever so slightly. The man's smile grew. A devilishly handsome face, and his golden eyes glowed all the brighter.
"Do you see?" He said, rounding on the demon. "Do you see, Demon? There begins our change. From a seed – from an avenue – that I had given up hope of thousands of years ago."
