Back To The Tower
The fall didn't stop.
Lucifer dropped like a broken star, red light trailing from his body as the black walls around him blurred. Then, without warning, the descent stopped. His boots slammed onto solid ground. No impact. No stumble. Just silence.
He stood at the heart of a vast chamber—no ceiling, no walls—only a circular floor suspended in endless dark. Above him, the spiral tower vanished into the gloom. Below him, nothing. He blinked once. The blood on his hands hadn't dried. The scythe pulsed.
Then the floor shifted.
Rings began to form—one inside another, each spinning at a different speed. Runes glowed across the edges, faint at first, then flaring bright crimson. The entire platform began rotating.
A hum followed. Deep. Mechanical. Ancient.
Then came the voice—not a person, not a system.
Just a presence.
"You've trespassed into memory."
Lucifer raised Crimson Reaver. "Then remember this."
