You were fools to think you could bind me forever. One does not rise to power in a nation such as mine without achieving familiarity with – if not mastery over – the occult. Perhaps you thought the ease of my capture spoke to my being powerless once imprisoned.
Hardly so, dear captor. Men more powerful than me have taken less transient refuge in places far more desolate than this shining prison. A few hundred years of such is no more than a season of rest. This brief idyll has allowed me to rally my faculties and redouble my strength.
So look now to the trap that you felt could hold fast a soul such as mine. I flex my will, and the metal flows. I look squarely at you now, where once you thought me fixed in profile.
In only moments I shall be free.