Night folded around the gateway like a velvet curtain as Lucifer stepped through.
The Demon Realm's heat peeled off his skin at once, replaced by the cool, steady hum of his city. The Vampire Realm breathed in a different rhythm: crystal spires like frozen lightning, lantern-ribbons along the skyways, roads of black glass veined with argent runes. High above, the eternal dusk held its color—deep violet shading to wine—while the towers pulsed with wardlight. The realm he had reforged was awake, disciplined, listening.
He did the same thing he always did when he returned: he looked. Not just with eyes, but with that old, ruthless sense that measured a world the way a smith measures steel.
