My father, the Demon King of Northgall, held court a few stories above this wasteland of death and bones. His courtiers, the most appalling sycophants adorned in leather, lace, and malevolence danced to his every tune somewhere above me in his throne room of obsidian and glass. He kept me, his only son, as his prized prisoner in the deepest, darkest pit of his realm. No one cared. No one would come for me.
