He stepped forward, his hooved feet making dull, echoing thuds with every motion.
Each step seemed to shake the chamber slightly, though his gait was casual, almost lazy.
As he moved, the ground beneath his feet hissed—stone melting slightly under his presence.
The heretics held their positions, their eyes fixed to the ground.
All except one.
A young man. Barely more than a teenager. He had tried not to look, but fear had a way of betraying reason.
His head lifted, just slightly—enough for his gaze to rise from the floor and land upon the demon's burning form.
The demon stopped.
The air grew still.
Every whisper died.
The boy realized his mistake too late.
The demon smiled.
He walked toward the kneeling crowd, slow and deliberate, each step like a ticking clock.
When he stopped in front of the boy, the others shuffled slightly to the side, but never lifted their heads. They knew better.
"You," the demon said softly. "Did you look at me?"
