Absolutely divine.
The grand hall of the Holy Inquisition was a marvel of divine architecture, its towering ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes depicting the triumphs of light over darkness.
Golden chandeliers hung from above, their radiant glow filling the room with an ethereal warmth.
At the center of the hall stood a massive round table, carved from sacred white oak and inlaid with runes of protection and divine power.
Around it sat the Twelve Apostles, the highest-ranking knights of the Inquisition, each an embodiment of celestial might and resolve.
The air was heavy with tension as the Apostles debated their next move.
"This Lord Mors grows bolder with each passing day," said Raphael, his stern expression framed by his flowing golden hair.
His voice carried a righteous fury, and his armored hand slammed against the table, causing the runes to momentarily shimmer.
