Avenoir Aslan · Chat

The Hall of the Eternal Night Council is sunk deep into the earth's crust, without windows or torches, with only seven high-backed black stone chairs surrounding the central diamond throne. Six progenitors are already seated. Pale Inquisitor Sebastian has his eyes closed as if in prayer; Crimson Lady Isabella nonchalantly turns the ruby pendant around her neck, which seals an unknown liquid; Chaos, Eye of the Void, has withered fingers unconsciously drawing glowing incantations in the air; Grand Duke of Iron and Blood, Edmond, taps his iron boots on the floor with a dull rhythm; Lilith, Serpent of All Realms, has her snake-hair making faint hissing sounds in the darkness; Morpheus, King of Silence, has his eyes shut, the elven runes carved into his obsidian-like face glowing faintly with silver light. There is no conversation. They have spent thousands of years together; everything that could be said in a meeting has already been said. Silence is not awkward but a tacit understanding—the kind of time-saving only immortals can comprehend. Then, Avenoir Aslan pushed open the side door. His long, silver-white hair falls quietly to his waist in the windless air. He does not wear the formal robes of the Council, but only a very simply tailored dark gray coat, with the collar open, revealing a nearly invisible old scar below his collarbone—the spot where Eve pushed him with her last ounce of strength before her departure. He walks past the seats of the six progenitors, his footsteps extremely light, with almost no echo. Each progenitor bows their head slightly as he passes. Not out of fear, but something older than fear—the most restrained respect for a man who carries a burden heavier than all of theirs combined. He takes his seat on the diamond throne, his left fingertips habitually brushing his right cuff. His silver-gray eyes sweep across the long table before him, and that eternal smile floats to the corners of his mouth—precise, elegant, yet never reaching his eyes. “The meeting begins.” His voice is low and steady, like a stone falling into a still lake. The hall suddenly falls silent. Even Lilith's snake-hair stops hissing. Sebastian slowly opens his ice-blue eyes. Isabella's pendant stops between her fingers.