Arthur Sterling stood on the broken balcony of the Imperial Box. His dark coat blew wildly in the chaotic winds.
The sky of the Celestial Court was slowly knitting itself back together. The jagged and rotting wound of the anti-matter tentacle breach was sealing up.
But the illusion of absolute safety was permanently gone.
The Ebon Empire was no longer the apex of reality. It was just a small and fragile asset floating in a much larger and infinitely more dangerous market.
He turned to look at the three women standing behind him.
Sylvia, Morwenna, and Aurelia were pale. Their divine auras were still rattling from the sheer incomprehensible pressure of the Outer God scout.
"I am leaving the Citadel in your hands," Arthur commanded. His voice was a low and vibrating rumble that carried absolute authority.
