Back in the present, the underground chamber was just as alive as it had ever been. The signs of a ceremony that had looked more like the work of an occult group painted the once pristine walls of the count's chambers in blood and sigils, painted upon all the walls, releasing an aura that would put mortals in a lull of madness, drenching them in a horror of the things the light of creation kept at bay.
The atmosphere was eerie and nondescript, the hooded priest added more onto the atmosphere with his heavenly presence.
Krael stood with a sharpness that betrayed a man who had come to terms with his own reality he now stood with the poise of aman that had with stood the delusions of mind far gone in its own fantasies. His eyes now held a clarity they had never possessed before a firmness that showed maturity that was rare in people of his age. And for the first time, Krael wore a smile—one free from the schemes and shadows that usually lurked behind it.
