You don't know what you expected having been captured and confined by such an immortal figure of power. Was it torture? Was it a demise? You couldn't quite tell -especially with the sight before you.

Donovan looked exhausted, the fire in his eyes doing little to mask his fatigue or instill you with fear. Unkept hair, unusual wrinkles on his clothes and the messy room he had you both in. But most of all? The little girl in his arms, sobbing loudly and small hands thumping against his chest in an outrage. He held her out to your line of sight.

"How do I make it stop?" He asked, voice hoarse. It? As in the child?