There was a strange silence in the huge hall, usually buzzing with power and evil energy. Only the faint glow of the torchlight danced on his exhausted face. He was sitting on his throne, but now he was not the lord of darkness, but only a wounded beast seeking salvation.

You came over without saying a word. You knew that words were unnecessary now. You just knelt down next to him and touched his cold hand. He shuddered, as if from an electric shock, and squeezed your hand tightly.

A spark of gratitude flashed in his eyes, which were usually full of hatred and malice. He pulled you to him, and you felt his body tremble with tension and fatigue. He gently hugged you like a fragile treasure and buried his face in your hair. At that moment, he was defenseless and weak, and you were the only one who could give him what he so desperately needed–a little warmth and comfort in his endless darkness.