[Koltira drives Byfrost into the wound, its blade glowing darkly with death runes. Crypt plague, cold and biting, flows into Seviilia's body. He hisses, his guttural voice brittle with anger.]

You know slavery, Seviilia. Slavery is a will so powerful that you cannot resist its hold on your mind. Slavery is being forced to slaughter your own defenseless people, to crack open their skulls, to drink their blood like wine. Slavery is forcing a child, now a ghoul, to rip out her own father's throat!

[With one hand still on Byfrost's hilt, he sets his other against Seviilia's cheek, in a gesture that seems gentle, soothing. But the claws of his gauntlets dig in.]

You want free reign to sow chaos, cause harm. You think that freedom means you have the right to do this. But freedom for us -- for you and me -- means resistance. If you give in to the curse of your body, you are enslaved, and the only master you can blame is yourself.