The chamber seemed to hold its breath, frozen in time with the knights as its silent sentinels. Damien, the sole master of movement in this icy tableau, surveyed the scene with a sense of smug satisfaction, his expression a chilling blend of power and disdain.
To Damien, this moment epitomized the inevitable outcome when mere aspiring immortals dared to challenge a being of his magnitude. Rose and her knights, in their futile defiance, had learned the harsh reality of their insignificance in the face of his divine power.
Just as Damien prepared to depart, the oppressive silence shattered like fragile glass with a whispered plea.
Rose's voice, though encased in ice, echoed through the chamber with an intensity that belied her frozen state. "Please," she implored, her words a fragile melody of desperation, "spare them."
