Chapter 92

People will kill you over time, and how they will you is with tiny, harmless phrases, like "be realistic".

-Dylan Moran.

|N I C O L A S|

The loud piercing scream of the man travelled to my ears, providing the extreme relief.

In the shadowed recesses of the chamber, an oppressive malevolence hung thick in the air, suffocating reason and festering in the very marrow of the room. The acrid scent of fear, a tangible miasma, intermingled with the metallic tang of desperation, creating a spectral atmosphere that clawed at the edges of sanity.

Cillian, the hapless who had dared to sever the tether to my soul, now cowered in the spectral gloom, his futile resistance against unyielding restraints a pitiful ballet of despair.

A cruel grin twisted my lips, a grotesque mask of malevolence that reflected the abyssal darkness within.

The flickering light, a feeble sentinel against the encroaching shadows, cast ominous shapes upon my countenance, morphi