In a cavernous, subterranean audience hall, carved directly into the damp bedrock of the earth where water dripped methodically from the jagged stalactites hanging from the vaulted ceiling.
At the far end of the hall, elevated on a dais of polished obsidian, sat a throne carved from a single, massive piece of jagged iron.
Below that throne, a person wearing a 2-Horned Devil mask sat lost in deep thoughts.
He wore heavy robes of midnight blue, the cowl pushed back to reveal his mask, a bone-white visage of a grinning devil, distinguished by the two twisted, jagged horns curving upward from the forehead.
He sat in absolute silence, his gloved fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against the stone.
He was not alone.
Standing at the base of the dais, bathed in the sickly green light, were two figures.
They were wrapped in heavy cloaks of tattered, dark velvet, but the fabric could not hide the horrifying reality of their existence.
