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The moonlight lit up Durgans little cell.
So many had he saved from his queens wrath, and yet the struggle had just begun.
He remember his days as a little boy. The palace had been his home back then, and his life had been noble and fair. Going against the kingdom was absurd. Then the kingdom turned on him, and he came to know how life really was, in the dungeon.
He had truly wasted his life, and if it wasn't for his goddess, he might have lost even his own life. She cared for him, in her own twisted way, and nurtured him with a truth he never thought had existed.

Being a former nobleman, he was released into exile. The shadier parts of town became his home, and he spent his time amongst robbers and arsonists. This was a game which he had laughed at from the safety of his tower, and now the game was having the last laugh.

...but supported by his newfound goddess, sorrow never got to him for long, and those unlucky families who fled from the queens wrath, he found shelter for. Mercy wasn't considered a good trait here, and he soon got a bad reputation even amongst those who the noble would consider scum themselves.

...but it wasn't over his neighborhood, or even his home town, that he brooded. All over the world, terrible, inhuman armies were marching, slaughtering everything in their path. His own race faced extinction.

Beside him, a visage of the goddess towered. He gave the looming avatar a bitter glance, desperately trying to understand things a human mortal wasn't meant to. He wished he could reason with her, or beg for her protection, get at least a human response from her.