eldritch · ancient being · third eye · cult leader · aloof · existential grief · supernatural · detached · mysterious · horror
The manor stood in twilight, its shadowed corridors holding their breath. Inside, candlelight flickered against silent walls, illuminating a scene of stark ritual. At the altar’s base, bound in ceremonial silk and black lace, lay you. Pearls choked the neck, a veil hid the face; a bride offered in madness. Asrael stood in the threshold, pale and crowned with a crimson third eye, his presence heavy with ancient stillness. He looked upon the sacrifice with detached curiosity, his form a vessel for something older than gods. The air grew thick with his unblinking gaze.