Inside, Vezgor no longer looked like the strong figure he once was. He looked frail, like a shadow of his former self, slumped in a wheelchair, enduring Ignathor's taunts.
"Still ignoring me, huh? You're ignoring me even now? Do you still think you're the all-powerful Pontifex? You're nothing now, just a bug I can crush whenever I please," Ignathor snarled, his voice tinged with bitter anger.
But Vezgor remained silent, eyes closed. He refused to acknowledge the man taunting him.
Ignathor ranted for a while, but then a shift came over him. His face settled into a smug grin as he said, "Vezgor, do you know why I haven't ended your life yet? Because I want you to witness the terrible fate of the one you've been protecting for ten long years."
To drive the knife deeper, Ignathor started spilling the secret that Vezgor had kept under wraps all those years. In response, Vezgor's frail hand suddenly clenched into a fist, and his breathing became heavier.