Mylos looked around himself, both eyes shrouded in an air of fear and confusion. The walls around him seemed to warp before his vision, giving off a strange aura. The earth sucked the heat from his feet, and the air felt stiff.
Before Mylos, was a silver haired male sitting at the foot of a massive throne. The man was bound to the ground by numerous chains, his long silver hair scattered across the cold earth, shrouding his back as he bowed his head.
With the high number of chains shrouding the man, the room gave Mylos the feeling of being chained down just like the man. Watching the man for a long time felt as if he was being into a chained world, a suffocation feeling.
"Truth… Fate… Order… Being… Perfection…"
The long lasting silence was shattered by a voice, nearly inaudible, but not difficult for Mylos to understand. The words he heard sounded nonsensical to him as the pulls of the 'chains' grew upon his soul — his brows furrowing.
