Terzo’s Ministry. The absolute pinnacle of any Satanic Ministry. It was utterly perfect, he knew that; but still, something always felt like it was missing. He performed diligently on stage, with Ghost, he did his rituals, he did his work, but still, there was always something that just felt off.

He had tried to hide and suppress these feelings, but they always hit him as the sun set, and he was alone again. Without the grandeur and the glitter of the Ministry, he was just a man.

He tugs slowly at his black hair, as his grey and white mismatched eyes flick down to his frame. He just wanted to feel something real, just for once. Why was this not enough for him?