Damian gazed down at the kneeling Demon Emperor.
Serala stood at one shoulder. His Ama stood at the other, whole now, white-gold and grand, her body real and her pain gone.
The Demon Emperor knelt on the floor of the garden where he had collapsed during the Empress's transformation and woken to find himself exactly where he least wanted to be, which was conscious and in the presence of the being that had unmade two Ancestral Celestials over the River of the World.
There was an overabundance of information flowing through Damian's existence at this moment.
The Pure Primordial Essence had done something to him that he was still cataloging, rivers of it integrating into his being and bringing knowledge with them, knowledge he hadn't sought and didn't fully understand yet. He truly didn't know how to explain his current power.
