"Are my generals ready?" Adam asked, his voice commanding.
They were all present except Silas, who remained in the forge district to recover from his exhaustive work on the Raiment of the God-Slayer. Luna stood near the ancient cauldron, her green eyes reflecting the dancing flames beneath Mimir's brewing vessel. Garduck cast long shadows across the walls, while Shihan's balanced stance spoke of readiness for whatever came next. The five fallen angels—Zane, Zephyr, Morwen, Victoria, and Sarah—arranged themselves in their usual formation, dark wings folded but ready to spread at a moment's notice. They nodded as one, their faces set with grim determination.
Mimir moved between them, ladling portions of his strengthening potion into ornate goblets. The liquid within swirled with colors that hurt to look at directly—power in drinkable form, extracted from the oldest gods that had ruled the cosmos.
