Beta Cleo
The pulsating bass of the club throbbed like a second heart, a relentless rhythm that vibrated through Beta Cleo’s very bones.
He stood amidst a swirling mass of bodies in “Obsidian,” a club whispered about in hushed tones, a haven for the city's elite. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the high ceilings, casting an opulent glow on the revelers below. The air was thick with the cloying sweetness of expensive perfume, the acrid tang of cigarette smoke, and an undercurrent of something sharper, something that prickled Beta’s nostrils with unease, the unmistakable scent of illicit substances.
Sybille, his mate, was in her element.
Her laughter, high and carefree, echoed through the place. She pulled Beta onto the dance floor, her body moving with a fluid grace that was both
