Lucien's boots slammed against the marbled floor of the Blood Sanctuary, each step echoing like war drums through the vast, vaulted chamber. The sound reverberated off the ancient stone walls, bouncing between towering pillars carved with forgotten symbols that seemed to writhe in the flickering crimson light. The air was soaked in metallic tension, thick with the heady mixture of burning incense, raw lust, and something far older—something primal that had slumbered in these depths for millennia.
The ancient altar at the heart of the chamber commanded attention like a malevolent god. It pulsed with red energy that seemed to have a heartbeat of its own, veins of blood-like essence spiraling out across the stone floor in intricate patterns that resembled a living circulatory system. The very walls seemed to breathe with anticipation, shadows dancing in rhythm with the altar's crimson glow.
