The last sliver of sunlight vanished behind the shattered mountains, casting a shadow over the ruined highlands.
Lucifer stood at the cliff's edge, hands in his coat pockets, crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath the falling dark. The sky, once scorched with war, now quieted—just long enough to breathe.
Behind him, the wind whispered like it feared waking something older than time.
Across from him, Daniel stared into the darkening sky.
"I see they've successfully averted the problem," he said flatly. "But let's not focus on that."
He turned to Lucifer, slowly, like one beast acknowledging another.
"We've still got a fight to finish."
Lucifer didn't answer. Not at first.
Instead, he looked up.
Watched the night roll in like smoke across the sky.
And then, like a switch being flipped—his aura shifted.
