Rithrath, the Demon Lord, stood in the midst of the chaos, his eyes blazing with fury. The ambush had left his convoy in ruins. He surveyed the scene—his carriages lay shattered, many of his demons dead, while others writhed in pain, wounded. Nearly all the carriages were destroyed, and the sight of it stoked his rage further.
But what angered him the most? The two figures standing before him now, unmistakably the ones responsible for his son's death. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the beasts they rode—those same fire steeds he had once gifted to his son.
They've come willingly! His lips curled into a cruel smile. Good. Because I will not let them die easily.
He could already picture it—the endless suffering he would inflict upon them. Torture, pain, imprisonment. They would wish for death long before he was through with them. Yes, he had planned every cruel punishment he could imagine, and now, he would make sure they endured them all.
