“I don’t think that he wants to understand it. Oftentimes people prefer taking the easy route. If they’re angry, then they don’t have to face their grief. Sometimes that can be relatively harmless. It’s alright to be mad at a murderer. Sometimes it isn’t harmless. Sometimes people like Roy let their ire escalate into misguided violence.”
She pulled out a dagger and balanced it on a finger, focusing on its tip.
”His violence is directed at the wrong target. Redirecting that fury is beyond my abilities. All I can do is ensure that he never gets the opportunity to do more harm.”
She grinned. It somehow seemed like her smile was too wide for her face.
”I am very good at being frightening. It helps to scare away cowards like Roy.”
Behind her, the wall was painted with black on black. The differences in shades were subtle, but they were distinct enough to reveal a haunting depiction. Rows upon rows of souls. Those that still resembled humans were contorted in positions of pain or fear, some with gaping mouths and others huddling on the ground. They were surrounded by indistinct shapes. On a first glance, they seemed to be flames. On another, they became blades. Tartarus. The land of the damned.