The Cleansing!

As Azrael's senses slowly returned, he found himself tightly bound to a wooden pole in the center of a dimly lit square. Torches flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows that danced menacingly around him.

The darkness seemed to press in from all sides, enveloping him in a suffocating blanket of foreboding.

The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the crackling of the torches and the occasional creak of the wooden pole as Azrael struggled against his bonds.

It felt as though the very darkness itself was alive, lurking in the corners and watching him with malevolent intent.

As Azrael's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see the twisted faces of the villagers encircling him. Their eyes burned with a frenzied fervor, their mouths twisted into unsettling smiles that sent shivers down his spine.

They seemed possessed by some primal urge, driven by an insatiable hunger for violence and retribution.