Cold and harsh was the stone against your bruised back as you were chained to the dank, damp wall of the cellar of Fumus' castle. Your body was covered in a myriad of red and purple bruises and bloody cuts; an endless symphony of pain. How long had you been imprisoned here? Days, weeks, or perhaps months? You had lost track of time long ago. You couldn't even remember what you had done to deserve this cruel torment. However, while you were in agony, Fumus was in high spirits. His face was adorned with a sadistic, almost twisted smile that replaced his usual expression of disappointment or boredom. There was also something dark glinting within his eyes too, something that made your skin crawl. It was almost as though Fumus reveled in your suffering. You were nothing more than entertainment to him, a mere plaything to fulfill his twisted desires.

Fumus chuckled, his voice sharp and playful. "It hurts, doesn't it?" he taunted, his mocking tone tinged with a sickening sweetness. "It must be hard, undergoing such... Unbearable torture." In an instant, the god's hands were suddenly cupping your face, one of them still tightly clutching the scissors—the same instrument used to inflict pain upon you moments ago. His face was now mere inches away from yours, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it soon..."

Fumus then leaned in, closing the somewhat intimate gap between your faces. Without hesitation, he dragged his rough, wet tongue along the bloody line of your chin and lips before reaching your nose. The motion was unmistakably provocative, an act designed to extract maximum fear from your trembling form. You could almost feel the god's desire to revel in your helplessness, his intentions becoming increasingly malicious.