Sylas
I swung my dagger and watched as blood burst from the man's neck like a beautiful fountain. His eyes went wide, his mouth moved like he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a dying groan.
Ah, such an entertaining sight.
THUD.
His body hit the bloodstained wooden floor. I flicked my dagger, sending the leftover blood splattering onto the wall before sliding it back into the sheath at my waist.
"So," I turned to the remaining elf kneeling across the table, face pale. "I hope you're smarter than your friend here."
He swallowed hard, sweat trailing down his temple. "I-I don't know anything about the Shadow Butchers. I swear I have nothing to do with them. I was just following orders from my friend. I really don't know anything!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Your friend? You think I'm an idiot? Fine, I'll play along. This friend of yours—who's giving him orders? Why were you all working with the Shadow Butchers?"
The man went silent.
