"Grey orcs possess an alarming rate of maturation, far exceeding that of their green counterparts," he explained, his voice heavy with resignation. "This rapid aging compels them to breed incessantly, year after year, forging an entire army in their unyielding quest for power and domination."
He suddenly fell silent, an unsettling stillness enveloping the air. Enyora raised her head after a few seconds of oppressive quietude, her heart racing. A shadow loomed over her, drawing her attention. She turned swiftly, her eyes widening at the sight of Lok Ra, spear in hand, a glint of malice flickering in her gaze.
With a rush of instinctual fear, Enyora stepped back, her voice trembling as she managed to utter, "What do you want?" The question hung in the air, more a plea than an inquiry.
"They took him away. Tell me what’s going to happen to Willem!" Enyora’s voice, though filled with urgency, was abruptly silenced by Lok Ra’s cold interruption.
“Kill him,” Lok Ra declared, her tone devoid of emotion, as though she were stating a simple fact rather than a death sentence.
Enyora’s eyes widened in disbelief. “W-what?” she stuttered, her heart sinking. 
“My brother promised me that I could kill you both once you finally met,” Lok Ra explained, her voice dripping with a twisted satisfaction. “And now that you have, he’s changed his mind. He said I’m free to kill your man, but not you.” 
“Kill him?!” Enyora’s voice rose, a mixture of outrage and desperation. “You can’t kill him!” 
“I can, but my brother will do it for me,” Lok Ra replied with a smirk, reveling in the torment she was inflicting. “In the meantime, I managed to sneak in here.” 
The air thickened with tension as Enyora’s mind raced, grappling with the horrifying reality of Lok Ra’s words.
“Are you going to release me or not?” Enyora demanded, her voice firm, though a hint of trepidation lingered beneath the surface.
Lok Ra regarded her with a sneer, a cold smile playing on her lips. “Even in your wildest dreams, I will never release you,” she declared, her tone dripping with malice.
In a desperate attempt to summon her powers, Enyora raised her hand, her heart racing with anticipation. But to her dismay, nothing happened. The air around her remained still, devoid of the magic she so desperately sought. 
Lok Ra’s laughter erupted, bright and mocking, filling the small, dank cell with its cruel resonance. “Oh, how delightful!” she chortled, unable to contain her amusement. “The entire cell is forged from a rare stone found only in Sinar. You wouldn’t be able to perform your little tricks as long as you’re confined behind these bars,” she explained, each word laced with derision, punctuated by her relentless laughter.
Enyora’s cheeks flushed with anger and humiliation, but she steeled herself, refusing to show weakness. “You may think you’ve trapped me, but this is merely a setback,” she countered, her voice steady, determination blazing in her eyes.
"The entire cell is forged from a rare stone found only in Sinar. You wouldn’t be able to perform your little tricks as long as you’re confined behind these bars,” she proclaimed, her voice dripping with derision, each syllable punctuated by her relentless cackle that echoed off the cold, unyielding walls.
Enyora, her fury igniting like a tempest, attempted to lash out at Lok'Ra with a swift kick, but Lok'Ra nimbly evaded her strike, a sly smile playing upon her lips. "Ah, I see the fire in your eyes, my dear," she taunted, tilting her head slightly. "You look positively furious. How about I offer you a refreshing drink to calm those raging storms within?"
With a flourish, Lok'Ra pulls out a delicate glass bottle, the liquid inside shimmering ominously in the dim light. She unscrewed the cap with a deliberate slowness, her sinister grin widening as she leaned closer, the scent of the contents wafting tantalizingly through the air. "Water, my dear Enyora," she said, her voice a silken whisper, "can be both a balm and a poison. Which shall it be for you?"
"I don't need your water!" Enyora retorted through clenched teeth, her voice a fierce snarl. "You gray orcs are nothing but animals! Your grotesque visage perfectly mirrors your vile attitude!" In a moment of defiance, she spat squarely onto Lok'Ra's face, the warm saliva glistening against the orc's skin.
To Enyora's astonishment, Lok'Ra did not recoil; instead, she remained poised, her expression unfazed. With deliberate calmness, she wiped the spittle away, her fingers brushing across her cheek as if merely removing a speck of dust. "Such passion," Lok'Ra remarked, her voice laced with mockery, "but it only serves to illustrate your desperation."
"May you burn in the deepest part of hell!" Enyora screamed, her voice a furious crescendo that reverberated through the dim confines of her cell. The man in the adjacent cell erupted into laughter, a sound that mingled with Enyora's rage, amplifying the tension that hung in the air. The derision in his laughter was a stark reminder of their shared plight, yet it only fueled her indignation further.
"I thought pretty people were supposed to be nice," Lok'Ra began, an insidious smile curling at the corners of her lips. "Turns out, it’s not always like that." With a swift motion, she hurled the contents of the glass bottle at Enyora, a malicious glint in her eyes.
As the liquid splashed against Enyora's skin, a piercing scream erupted from her throat, a sound laced with sheer agony. The realization struck her like a blow: this was no ordinary water. It was boiling oil, searing hot and merciless, an inferno unleashed upon her unsuspecting flesh. The pain radiated outward, engulfing her in a torment she had never known, and she could feel her skin blistering beneath the vile substance.
Despair clawed at her heart as she gasped for breath, the horror of what had just transpired crashing down upon her. Enyora knew with a chilling certainty that her skin was ruined, the delicate beauty she had once taken for granted now marred by this cruel act. Lok'Ra stood before her, reveling in the chaos she had wrought, the delight in her eyes a stark contrast to the suffering she had inflicted.
Enyora screamed in agony, her voice a raw, anguished cry that echoed through the cell as she frantically clawed at her scorching skin, desperately attempting to wipe away the searing oil. Each touch sent waves of torment coursing through her, igniting her pain anew.