Prologue. (1/1)

He walked into my office, hair dishevelled, slightly damp with a mixture of blood and mud crusted under his fingernails, “What’s wrong my child?” I asked him, softly circling him into my arms and tucking his head under my chin. “I… I've done it again Father” he murmured, his breath tickling the skin exposed on my neck and sending an explosion of electric currents around my body. Taking a moment to compose myself, I then held him at arm’s length, “Sit and talk, please” I half begged, half commanded as I led him to the chair situated in front of my desk and walked around to the opposite side. Sitting down, awkwardly straight, in the large, brown, oak chair with scriptures carved into the arms and back. I took a look at the spectacle in front of me.