In the crucible of night, Silo loomed larger than life, an embodiment of raw power pulsating through him, courtesy of the enigmatic G-viagra.
For humans, lacking any magical prowess or supernatural trait, it was a level playing field.
It was a potent concoction meant to tip the scales, for humans were bereft of the magical essence that elves and werewolves wielded with ease. They were, in essence, the embodiment of 'normalcy'. But in that moment, none of that mattered to Silo.
Before him stood the final chapter of this grim night, the last vestiges of his comrades tossed to him like discarded marionettes, their lifeless visages haunting the moonlit scene.
Under the spectral glow of the moon, Silo's intent was palpable, unmistakable were the desires he held for the figure standing before him.
