Then came a regal-looking individual, her posture exuding authority. Her eyes scanned the surroundings with a cold, calculating glare. She had a crown of thorns digging into her scalp, and her limbs were bound in heavy chains that dragged behind her. As her gaze fell on James, he felt a crushing weight of tyranny, a need to submit. She represented the curse of power used to dominate and oppress, a ruler who would bring others to their knees with her mere presence.
In contrast, a brute of a man followed her, his muscles bulging grotesquely, veins pulsating just under his skin. His skin was a patchwork of scars and fresh wounds, and his hands were unnaturally large, capable of crushing bone with ease. He radiated raw physical power, but his curse was the compulsion to use it to harm and control. As he moved, the ground seemed to tremble, and James felt a primal fear, the instinct to flee from the violence this being embodied.
