The world dissolved in a nauseating swirl of color and sound, then snapped back into focus with the sharp clarity of a diamond. The chaotic energy of the battle plain was gone, replaced by an immense, silent hall.
Lucy stumbled, her boots echoing on a floor that seemed made of polished obsidian, reflecting a ceiling that showed not stone, but a swirling, star-dusted nebula. The air was cool and still, smelling of ozone and something ancient, like old parchment and cold starlight. The profound power that had filled her during her transformation now hummed quietly beneath her skin, a settled, constant presence.
Alistair stood a few paces away, his back to her, looking up at the celestial display above. He seemed… at peace.
"Where are we?" Lucy asked, her voice steady, the new resonance in it making the question sound more like a command.
