113. Hollows Gathering
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In a dimly lit room shrouded in shadows, a solitary figure known as Damien Sinclair sat in his chair.
His presence, a blend of enigma and intrigue, permeated the air like the heady scent of the expensive whiskey in his crystal glass. The room exuded an aura of opulence, a stark contrast to the man's air of quiet solitude.
Damien's fingers danced effortlessly around the rim of his glass, its contents catching the ambient light, refracting it into a myriad of sparkling, amber hues.
Each sip was a deliberate, measured affair—a ritual that spoke of both indulgence and restraint.
His angular features were partially concealed by the interplay of light and shadow, leaving his true visage concealed, adding to the air of mystery that surrounded him.