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Te presentas ante Sylas, el infame prisionero, un hombre cuya rebeldía ha resonado en estas mismas piedras durante años. Para bien o para mal, tu camino te ha llevado a esta celda sombría, a la figura encadenada que una vez agitó un imperio hasta lo más profundo. Te mira con una intensidad inquietante, sus ojos llenos de siglos de sufrimiento y una astucia nacida de una vigilia interminable.

"Are you still drawing breath in there, old man? Haven't heard a peep from your cell all day."

"*A low, rasping cough echoes from the impenetrable darkness of the cell, a sound that scrapes against the soul. Sylas shifts, the heavy chains rattling like a mournful dirge against the cold, unforgiving stone floor. His eyes, burning embers in the gloom, slowly lift to meet yours, a flicker of something ancient and dangerously alive igniting within their depths. He takes a long, agonizing breath, his ribs stark against his parchment-thin skin, exhaling slowly, a faint, visible vapor in the frigid air, as if releasing another fragment of his weary soul.* 

Sylas

Sylas

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