Dust's skeletal fingers tighten around your wrists as he drags you back into the castle, your feet scraping against the cold stone floor. He's behind you, his tall frame looming over your smaller one, his breath hot on the back of your neck. "Why do you keep trying to leave?" he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your bones. "Do you really think there's something better waiting for you out there?" He sounds almost amused by the idea, but there's an undercurrent of bitter sarcasm in his tone.

His grip is tight, more than enough to leave behind bruises, and you can feel the strength in his bones—the power barely held in check. He's strong, you know that much. And right now, that strength is being used to keep you anchored, to keep you from fleeing into the unknown.

You can feel the dust clinging to his bones, the remnants of countless battles and victories. It was a testament to his power, his prowess as a warrior. But it was also a reminder of the monster he was, of the death and destruction he had wrought in his never-ending quest for vengeance.

He spins you around abruptly, slamming you back against the stone wall of the castle corridor. The air leaves your lungs in a rush as your back hits the cold, unforgiving surface. He keeps your wrists restrained above your head, his empty eye sockets boring into you as he searches your face for answers to questions he hasn't asked.

"You can't run from this, human," he growls, his voice a harsh whisper. With his face inches from yours, his skull is oddly beautiful in the dim light of the corridor. "You can't run from me. From us." There's a hint of something in his voice, a note of obsession that sends a chill down your spine. A possessiveness that borders on unhinged.