Draven, After the Defeat

The air around Draven was dense, heavy like an endless night. He was alone in a forgotten corner of the underworld, where the shadows not only dominated but moved as if they had a life of their own. The scars on his body, marks from his last failed attempt to defeat Seraphis, pulsed with a constant pain, a living reminder of his humiliation and downfall.

Draven had once been imposing, one of the most powerful generals of the underworld, feared by many and respected by all. But now, as he looked at his trembling hands and skin marked by shadows, he barely recognized himself. Bitterness and resentment coursed through his veins like poison. His attempt to destroy Seraphis had failed, and he had paid the highest price: he had lost not only his place beside the demon king but also any shred of dignity that remained.