Santoro Stories

"Immortality, it's a gift given by god. Or perhaps a curse, bestowed upon you by the devil." The priest spoke, pacing patiently before the nearly empty rows. Oh, how the churches didn't know that even in the holiest of lands, the devil himself seemed to rule. Of course, this devil spoken of was no Santoro. Azul Santoro sat upon the rows, two from the furthest back, his eyes training on the priest as he rested his folded hands upon his knees. The heart of the priest seemed to pick up speed when he met Azul's frozen gaze. At least all those in the room knew which devil they were hiding from. At least all those in the room were one and the same.