The mask, twisted and grotesque, stared down at me with those hollow, malevolent eyes. Its grotesque grin seemed to widen, a silent promise of the suffering to come. I could feel the weight of his malevolent intent pressing down upon me, as he drew nearer, casting an oppressive darkness that enveloped my very soul.
In a chilling display of dark power, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and obey his malevolent command. With an eerie whisper, a large machete materialized out of thin air, its blade gleaming wickedly in the dim torchlight. It was a weapon of torment and death, conjured effortlessly by the torturer's twisted mastery over dark forces.
