At the very center of the ancient tower, where the mysterious black flame burned with an eerie and unnatural intensity, the upper echelon of the Slave Trade Guild gathered.
There was no shouting.
Only the low, ancient chanting of the people surrounding the mysterious flame, their voices blending together into an eerie rhythm that seemed to resonate with the very foundation of the tower.
At the center of everything stood the Holy Son.
He was completely shirtless, revealing a lean and perfectly proportioned body that appeared almost sculpted rather than naturally formed.
With long brown hair cascading down his back like a dark curtain while several loose strands rested against his shoulders.
His handsome face was almost devilish in its perfection, possessing sharp features and an unnatural charm that made it difficult to look away from him.
Yet despite his beautiful appearance, there was something deeply disturbing about him.
His eyes remained tightly closed.
