Palace of Galiath – Third Layer of Hell
The palace of Galiath stood like a corpse in stone, ribs of obsidian spiking toward the endless crimson sky, its walls pulsing faintly as though breathing.
The halls hummed with the faint resonance of trapped voices, the cries of vessels that had broken under the hive mind's possession.
The air reeked of burned iron and stale blood, heavy enough that even demons coughed when they lingered too long.
In the throne room, black fire swayed in sconces that gave no warmth. Their light flickered as though uncertain if they wanted to reveal what hid in the corners.
And on the throne — not Galiath's, not by right — lounged a woman draped in darkness. She crossed one leg over the other, fingers tapping idly against the carved obsidian armrest. Her voice slipped out like a knife hidden in silk.
"So…" she purred. "…what was he like? The new demon king of Titus?"
