The Heavenly Taste Of Sin
Dark secrets have a way of making it out into the light. However, when you belong to the 1% of the 1% those secrets tend to stay buried alongside the shattered hope of decaying and unsuspecting victims. Those secrets become currency. Those secrets become weapons. They become power.
And when the rich get richer and the powerful become more powerful who is there to stop them?
The Concierge of Death.
The Hellhound of Justice.
In the shallows of a world with no sun bloomed a black rose - an agent of darkness was born - whose purpose serves the light.
Sebastian Prescott.
Sebastian Prescott was a member of a shadow organization known as “The Prometheus Progeny.”
To 99% of the world they were a myth, a rumor wrapped in a murmur of conspiracy theories. But to the wickedly rich they were the champions that defend the defenseless. The Goliaths that protect David - making it a fair fight.
Their Motto: “in absentia lucis, tenebrae vincunt”
Sebastian was the most efficient member of the organization. His identity unknown to anyone outside their enterprise. His executions were always precise, the punishment tenfold the crime. His pursuit for justice rarely satisfied.
This was a man who had personally met death. He sat and dined with her vicious allure, he’d heard her sweet voice as she sang blood-soaked promises. Their time together had been tattooed on his soul, making her his first love - a toxic dance between lovers forced by fate. His body marred by her caress and his mind twisted by the taste of her sinfully, intoxicating lips.
A mind held together by threads of relentlessness. He was a mess. A mess that was incredibly contained - well, just barely.
Sebastian knew that for every person he killed, an innocent life was saved or in some cases avenged.
That only begs the questions:
How much would this honorable way of life cost his sanity?
How deep does this well of resilience go?
What line hasn’t he crossed - is there even a line?
How much damage has been done?
Only Zuri Cane can answer that...