DeStiy’s eyes widened when he realised where he was. Black candles, dismembered limbs, the smell of blood and sulphur: at long, long last he had gained admittance to Satan’s Sanctuary.
Knives appeared before him, bejewelled, ornate and bright-bladed, each blade radiant in form and spirit. They were Enoch DeStiy’s ultimate temptation.
Spiritually, mentally and physically, his arousal was intense. How could it be otherwise, DeStiy reasoned, with Satan’s spirit enveloping him?
His mind grew bright, omniscient, omnipotent, and his spirit soared within him as both body and soul shuddered and convulsed with each glorious, continuous spasm of joyous release.