The mist parted.
Lucifer's boots sank into cold stone, but it didn't feel like stone. It felt… soft. Breathing. The entire floor pulsed beneath him, like he was standing on something alive.
He didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Something was watching.
Then it moved.
Far ahead, the air twisted. Warped.
And the monster stepped out.
It wasn't loud. It didn't roar. It just existed—and that was enough.
Towering. Four-legged, but its legs weren't legs—they bent like broken ribs stabbing into the floor. Its body looked flayed, skin draped over muscle that pulsed with glowing sigils. Its face was a mess of melted bone and eyes—too many eyes. Each one stared at a different world.
Lucifer narrowed his gaze.
Then came the voice in his head. Calm. Dry. Familiar.
"…Ah. That one."
"Damaris?"
"I've seen this thing. Once. In the Old Cycle. Back before the fall of the Blood Empire."
Lucifer didn't look away. "You fought it?"
"Easily."
Lucifer scoffed. "Thanks for the confidence."
