The room was a cold, unyielding chamber of darkness, its oppressive silence broken only by the sound of Lorcan's desperate voice. The dim light flickered weakly, casting long, grotesque shadows that danced on the walls like the specters of his torment.
Lorcan stood alone in the center of the room, his spirit worn thin by the relentless pressure of the immortals' demands.
"It is yet another day, still you have lifted no finger and have refused to do that which you should have done," came the voice, cold and authoritative, echoing off the stone walls.
The disembodied voice seemed to come from all directions, making Lorcan feel as though he were trapped in a nightmarish maze.Lorcan's frustration and desperation reached a boiling point. His face was a mask of anguish as he bellowed into the void,
