Michaelius hovered in the dimly lit room, his black wings folded neatly behind him. The cold stone walls of the secret chamber in Brady's Inn were adorned with dark tapestries, casting eerie shadows that danced in the flickering candlelight. His ashen gray skin seemed to blend with the surroundings, his ruby red eyes the only points of light in the darkness.
His hair, a striking contrast of black and white with a vivid red fringe, framed his stoic face. Michaelius's pointy ears twitched as he listened intently to the soft footsteps approaching. The door creaked open, and Lucius Blake entered, his face twisted in anger.
"What's wrong?" Michaelius asked, his voice cold and measured.
Lucius slammed the door behind him. "The Outcasts have taken the relic."
Michaelius's eyes narrowed. "You even fail tasks nobody assigned to you; that's kind of impressive." he said nonchalantly.
