The Seventh Plane had transformed from a battlefield into a festival of impossible proportions. In the grand central plaza of the Citadel, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and exotic spices.
The gravity had been adjusted to a comfortable "universal median," allowing the spectral entities of the Ghost Nebula to float alongside the heavy-plated soldiers of the Iron Sector. Overhead, the seven suns of the Multiversal Council hung like a crown of mismatched jewels, each casting a different colored shadow upon the shifting obsidian floors.
Aegis stood at the edge of the royal viewing platform, his new narrative-based body humming with a steady, pearl-white radiance. He was no longer the jagged, hungry Devourer that the galaxies feared. He was a presence that felt like a warm hearth in a cold winter. Beside him, Bella leaned against the railing, her azure gown rippling like a calm sea.
