Princess Cromwell and Her Six Brothers
Inside, only a dim blue lamp burned, its flickering flame casting elongated shadows and filling the room with a faint, cold scent mixed with medicine.
At the center of the chamber, Mystic Vale sat cross-legged on a black stone cushion, draped in a long black robe embroidered with dark gold mysterious patterns. Under the lamplight, the patterns flickered, exuding the desolation and chill of a thousand years. Though he had lived for over a thousand years, his appearance remained that of a man in his early thirties. His eye sockets were slightly deep, and his eyes were a profound ink-black—calm, they were like an ancient cold pool; when stirred, they surged with world-destroying malice, his ent