The black citadel welcomed them without resistance.
That alone put them on edge.
All semblance of snow vanished, thawed and melted into a warm steam.
No magic stirred. No guardians rose. The colossal obsidian doors parted without command, exhaling a breath of cold, stale air that smelled not of decay, but age.
The scent of something ancient, sealed too long.
Asmodeus was the first to step inside.
His boots tapped stone that once glittered with frost. Now, the crystals that fed the Demon Empress's power lay shattered across the floor, hollow and pale, like dead stars.
The others followed—silent.
Levia limped slightly, her armour barely held together. Vinea stayed close, hand on her blade. Lumina's new form glimmered faintly, eyes flicking between the archways above, alert. Asmodea hummed, low and tuneless, as if trying to break the pressure building around them.
Thanks to meeting their mother, the mood became lighter and more confident.
