The throne room of Atlantis stretched like a cathedral of war, its basalt walls reflecting the tactical maps and battle reports scattered across the central table. Eternal flames burned along grooves in the ground and pulsed in the walls, their light catching on the faces of Adam's inner circle as they delivered their reports.
Adam sat upon his throne, the star-shaped scar on his chest visible through the tears in his battle-worn clothing. Luna stood beside him, her presence a steady anchor in the chaos of command. Around the table, his most trusted allies arranged themselves in the familiar pattern of a war council.
The six fallen angels moved with fluid grace despite their humble origins.
Maven towered beside them in a pseudo-human form, bronze scales visible at the edges of his carefully maintained shapeshifting.
Ifrit blazed with contained orange flames. Despite his fiery appearance, his demeanor was calm and professional as he prepared his portion of the battle report.
