The Dread Mage went from cell to cell, looking at each of the mangled creatures.
He wondered how some of them were even alive.
It was unclear how aware they were, and he pitied them.
But he turned a blind eye to the suffering he had witnessed. He wasn't here for them or to stop the irath from doing what they have always done.
No matter how much cruelty they had endured, they were none of his concern.
He would have left without even looking back, and he was already at the door when he heard one of the twisted shapes gurgle, and Vell was sure that it tried to form words—to try and tell him something.
Going back to the cages, he went over each one to see if whatever made the sound before would try a second time.
Vell leaned close to the cage, where the gurgling noise had originated. The creature inside was a twisted mass of limbs and fur, its eyes gleaming with a mixture of fear and something that almost resembled intelligence.
Against his better judgment, Vell raised his hand and touched the bars of the cage, feeling the cold metal beneath his fingertips. The creature's gaze locked onto his bright red eyes, the only thing visible in the darkness.
There was no flicker of recognition within those eyes.
The gurgling noise came again, and this time, Vell could make out faint, garbled words.
"Help... please..."
The creature's voice was weak, barely audible over the sound of its labored breathing.
Vell put a hand on the lock of the cage and softly ripped open the door, the metal bars retracting with a faint click.
He stepped into it and put a hand on the creature, and it repeated the phrase, "Help... please..."
It didn't recognize him in a way other than knowing that something or someone was close to it.
It repeated the phrase over and over again. It seemed that it was the only creature here capable of speech, if very limited.
Vell thought that it didn't have a mind, if any consciousness at all. It could perform a few actions that made it seem intelligent, but upon further inspection, that pretense was gone.
He imagined that it was the same with every other creature here. Robbed of what made them what they were in the past, if they were anything at all, and not artificially created just to suffer.
Could he do anything for them? Perhaps there was no hope for redemption after all.
He couldn't help but feel detached from their suffering, the pleas for help barely registering in his mind. After all, he had seen countless atrocities throughout his life, and these creatures were just another chapter in the long history of cruelty.
These beings were mere playthings in a cruel and senseless world, and he, too, was just a pawn in a larger game of apathy.
Vell turned his back on the creatures, leaving them to their fate.