The sound of clanking armor filled the dusty path ahead. Wandering through the dark, Helga got closer and closer to the light barely cracking from the gaps on the brick ceiling. With each step, the sight before her grew more crystal, and finally, as she stood before the stone mural, she feasted her eyes on the last proof of craftsmanship from the creator himself.
"Ouroboros…" She muttered, pressing her hands against the sandstone artifact. "The devourer of the world, the herald to the apocalypse, and one so blinded by his pursuit for power he devourers himself whole."
"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Appearing out of thin air, the cloudy image of the prince of hell stood leaning against the walls of the passage right behind Helga.
For once, she didn't mind his deplorable presence. Instead, she was glad that he was here so they could settle on something extremely important.
