"Maggots, all of them lowly maggots." His voice was calm and cold. There was an indifference in his tone that showed just how lowly he saw the entities before him.
He stood on a burning building, the flames rolling and snapping around his feet, yet they did not seem to bother him in the slightest. Fire washed over the stone beneath him, heat distorting the air, but his posture never changed.
How could lower realm flames bother him?
His form was small. No surprise there. It was the body of a little girl with short black hair. She wore a small dress that reached her knees, clean and well made, and from how neatly she was dressed it was clear her parents must have held some significance.
But her eyes were dark.
These eyes did not belong to her anymore.
"What a hassle. A noble nightmare such as I, trapped in another nightmare."
The voice was the voice of Ittorath as he observed the proceedings below, his gaze heavy with disdain.
