Aurora turned, still floating. Her gaze stayed locked forward, the muscles in her jaw taut.
"Yes… it's been a while…" she said, gripping her staff until her knuckles blanched.
The air thickened immediately. The heat that had been gnawing at their skin now pulsed like a furnace from within the walls themselves.
Each breath came slower, heavier—suffused with a scent that wasn't just brimstone, but something older, like the dust from bones long crushed into the foundations of Hell.
The demon blam flinched first, his claws retracting, the hiss in his throat catching halfway. Azezal's own talons curled against the stone as his eyes flicked toward her. Veil edged closer until he was in Atlas's shadow.
"What did I miss?" he asked, as if sarcasm might mask the way he kept his weight on his heels, ready to run.
"…Nothing much. The party just started," Atlas replied, voice even but edged.
