The Spiral House had hundreds upon hundreds of floors and layers, spanning deep and far into the sand beneath and far into the clouded skies above.
It was gigantic and mysterious in a way Uriel couldn't comprehend.
Why did it exist? What was its purpose? What was Mariah's existence? Was she human? Why was such a grand construct so barren and dilapidated on the inside?
Uriel didn't know, and in fact, didn't care.
No, his mind was elsewhere.
One of the empty floors of the Spiral House had been entirely remodelled; the old and dusty wooden floors covered by thick crimson Arabian rugs with accents of gold, and the boring old stone walls painted a dark silver.
From the ceiling, a lamp hung, bleeding with warm orange light, reflected off a curved roof that bounded the light toward the ceiling before slowly spreading it across the room, filling it with ambient warmth.
