He was ethereally beautiful, a creature of pearl and night. The high priestess was a mere shadow of her fiery glory, compared to him.
He knelt and plucked up a flower, holding it like a wineglass. He stared at it. The watchers held their breath. This was why they had summoned him, a being of true beauty for this ugly world.
He lifted the flower to his lips, as though swallowing a liquor. When he was finished, all that was left was a withered tangle of thorns. Eyes gleaming, he turned his gaze to the crowd, drinking in their loveliness...
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