The sky over the city wasn't a sky anymore. It was a wound, pulsing a sickly gold. Up above the clouds, in a place that wasn't quite a place, Adam watched from his glass and bone throne.
His sanctuary felt thin today. Brittle.
Beneath his feet, through the transparent floor, he saw it all. The citadel of Zeus, now just another smoldering crater. The black veins of ruined streets. And moving through the wreckage, a familiar dark shape surrounded by smaller, stubborn points of light.
Lucifer.
Adam's expression was still, a mask of cold stone. But his knuckles were white where they rested on the arm of his throne.
"You just won't stay buried, will you?" he murmured to the empty air. The words didn't echo. They were swallowed by the hollow hum of the chamber.
