Something sinister thrummed in the air. It felt oddly similar to Frankenstein's aura, awfully cold. Not in the normal sense of cold either. Just a general lack of everything that made something "alive". A dead corpse had more life in it than what he felt wading off Frankenstein. Yet somehow, the took it a notch further. Logic told him that a place like this couldn't possibly exist, conceptually at least.
Whoever built the temple had a fascination with gold, much to his distaste. Growing up constantly surrounded by gold, and forced to wear it on every occasion didn't quite hold up to his sense of taste. Most people yearned for gold, especially the type the Imperial Family had access to, but born and bred with a gold spoon in his mouth. He didn't want anything to do with the substance. Much to his dismay, gold would forever be his companion. Everyone that existed within the Imperial Expanse worshipped gold to some extent.
