Blood spread across the well-polished marble floor, forming a dark, widening pool beneath the motionless figure at its center.
Standing above the corpse, Sithrus stared at his own reflection.
His eyes carried no emotion. No, nothing as he stared at the pooling blood before him.
Eventually, his eyes closed, and he gently picked up the dark chalice.
Snap!
With a snap of his fingers, the blood on the floor rose and flowed into the chalice. A powerful glow enveloped it, and the metal began to heat, pulsing with energy.
Sithrus brought the Chalice down, staring at his own reflection within the Chalice.
For how long had he been waiting for this moment?
He had long lost count.
No, it was more like, in all the years he had been alive, he had long lost the concept of time.
"...A long time."
This was how long he had waited for this moment.
He didn't delay it any further.
