The Dome of Witchcraft was more silent than usual. Elvira had slept in as her alarm, a chicken under enchantment, had failed to wake her on time. It wasn't the poor bird's fault, as Elvira had plugged her ears with a magic shield to prevent the agony-filled screams of Lilith's prisoners from torturing her eardrums.
The noises of pain were an everyday occurrence and were more like background music to her now, but the volume had intensified a lot. It seemed like 'Lilith's collection' had gained many new prisoners.
Elvira herself wouldn't phrase it like that. It sounded insensitive to the souls suffering there. As someone once locked in those cruel dungeons, she wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy. To simplify her experience, she could only articulate it as torture, agony, seclusion, complete darkness, a desire to end her life, and her interpretation of hell.