Yes, My Lord!

Seated within a chamber that resembled more of a prison than anything else, Silas found himself in deep meditation. The memory of the one-on-one confrontation he had engaged in with Dáinn, culminating in the decisive strike delivered by Cassiel, continued to haunt him.

Despite the passage of months, the injuries sustained during that battle had left him profoundly weakened, his once formidable powers reduced to mere shadows of their former strength.

In his solitude, Silas sought to mend not only his physical wounds but also the fractured aspects of his inner self. The room around him was dimly lit, its oppressive atmosphere mirroring the turmoil within him. He had once been a force to be reckoned with, an envoy of the Dark Lord commanding respect and fear. Now, he was left grappling with vulnerability and uncertainty.