The dungeons of the Crepusci Estate were exactly as pleasant as one would expect: cold, damp, and smelling of regret.
Lord Malachi was currently hanging upside down from the ceiling, wrapped in Rurik's lightning-infused chains.
"I will tell you nothing!" Malachi spat, his face red from the blood rushing to his head. "The Boss will purge this world! He will—"
ZAP.
Rurik tapped the chain with his finger. A small jolt of electricity made Malachi twitch.
"Boring," Rurik yawned. "He says the same thing every time. Can I hit him? Just a little? A love tap?"
"No hitting," Cassian sighed, adjusting his glasses. He was standing next to a table filled with very scary-looking alchemical vials. "We need his brain intact. Though judging by his tactical decisions, there isn't much to damage."
Lucien stood in the shadows, silent. He was sharpening his sword. The shink, shink, shink sound was doing more to terrify Malachi than Rurik's lightning.
