Ravenor's footsteps echoed faintly through the stone corridors as he left the dungeon, his thoughts lingering on the brief interaction with Elara. A slow, dangerous smile played on his lips as he strode back to the castle's upper chambers, where the ever-present gloom of unspoken secrets haunted the winds.
He was used to getting what he wanted. The fact that Elara resisted him—so stubbornly, so fiercely—was… interesting. Her rebellion, though vexing, was beginning to amuse him in ways he hadn't anticipated. It added fire to her presence, something Ravenor hadn't experienced in decades. But he would bend her to his will.
They all broke eventually.
And he would enjoy watching every step of her unraveling.
He would enjoy destroying her.
