A man in the fourth row back was named Valerien. He had murdered seventeen elves over the course of three decades, selecting victims based on particular characteristics that were based on his pattern of depravity.
He had been imprisoned for two hundred and thirty-seven years. He sat in his cell, his pale skin marked by the pallor of prolonged confinement, his eyes carrying the weight of centuries of regret and rage combined in equal measure.
Two cells to his left was a woman named Thessala. She had orchestrated the kidnapping and enslavement of forty-three elves, selling them to outside powers for profit.
She had been imprisoned for one hundred and ninety-two years. Her body bore the marks of violence.
Others imprisoned had attempted to exact their own justice within the confines of the dungeons. She remained alive through sheer will.
In the corner cell was a young elf named Korin. He had participated in a series of gang assaults, targeting elves who had refused his advances.
