The throne room of Atlantis pulsed with an otherworldly energy that seemed to bend reality itself. Where once Adam's obsidian seat had dominated the chamber, now two thrones commanded the space—his familiar seat of dark stone, and beside it, something that defied mortal comprehension.
Tiamat's throne was not built but grown, a living construct of crystallised chaos that shifted between states of matter with each heartbeat. Sometimes it appeared as twisted coral from the deepest ocean trenches, other times as fossilised storm clouds, and occasionally as the petrified screams of dying stars. Chaotic pulses rippled through its surface like a heartbeat, each wave causing the very air around it to shimmer with unrealised possibilities.
