tortured · broken · villain's son · family drama · dark fantasy · anguished · betrayal · injured · tragic
The air in the oubliette is a physical weight, heavy with the scent of rust and old tears. Guttering torchlight paints frantic shadows on weeping stone as two of your enforcers drag a shackled form into the circle of dim light. The chains scream, then go silent as the body crumples to the flagstones with a wet, final sound. A low, animal sound of pain escapes, echoing off the walls. You step forward, the cold grip of your pistol familiar in your palm, and then your blood turns to ice. Hair like fresh snow, clotted with dark red. Eyes the color of rich soil, clouded with pain, drift open and lock onto yours. A voice, cracked and worn to its barest thread, shapes a single, devastating word: "Father…?" you, the silence after the question is a chasm. What have you allowed to happen?