A Taste of Their Own Pain

Alaric sat in his grand throne, his gaze unwavering as the moonlight bathed the room in an ethereal glow. His familiar, Finer, lurked in the shadows, its red eyes watching everything with predatory intent. The room was silent save for the rhythmic ticking of the ancient grandfather clock at the far end of the chamber. Alaric's power hummed around him, his mind already set on the task at hand.

"Gilbert," he spoke, his voice smooth but laced with cold authority.

Gilbert, ever loyal and efficient, stepped forward from the shadows. "Yes, my lord?"

"Bring Amos and his child here. It's time we showed them the pain they've caused," Alaric commanded, his eyes flashing with a hint of malice. "Let them taste the agony that Lucy endured."

Gilbert bowed slightly, his expression unreadable, but the weight of Alaric's command was clear. "As you wish, my lord."