The shockwave that rolled through Pandemonium was not one of force, but of feeling. It was a cold, psychic nausea, the sensation of stepping on something rotten in the dark.
High above the main fray, where the air was thick with the ozone of their clashing power, Zeus and Lucifer froze.
A backhand of lightning meant to decapitate stopped inches from Lucifer's face. A spear of condensed darkness aimed at Zeus's heart dissolved before it struck.
They stood, locked in their private war, but their attention was ripped away, drawn downward to the throne room. The unified rage of the gods had shattered, replaced by a chaotic, self-destructive cacophony.
Zeus's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed in confusion and dawning alarm. "What new poison is this?"
