Second Layer of Hell, Irkalla.
Flames of Emerald Hell blazed over the torches carrying within them the Souls of the Damned that shrieked and bellowed, bearing twisted images that had been ravaged by torment. The Souls of the Damned knew no mercy. They knew no love, no hate. There was only pain that was as maddening as it was pleasurable.
Upon his throne ablaze with the very Flames of the Damned, Arsene Snow sat with an incorrigible smile on his face. His ashen hair fluttered with the winds that carried brimstone through the air, revealing his devilishly handsome face that carried a charm that masked his nefarious nature. His eyes remained red as a blood-stained moon, harboring two everchanging sigils within his irises.
