The air in the lower levels of the subterranean vault was thick with the suffocating scent of oxidized copper and stagnant water. It was a violent, jarring contrast to the rich smell of blooming orchids and wet pine that now blanketed the surface of the world above.
Zenith walked slowly through the pitch black corridors of the ancient, decaying city. The twelve year old Architect held his celestial steel Logic Rod in his right hand. The pulsing green circuitry of his domain cast long, eerie shadows across the rusted bulkheads.
He was not alone. Ignis walked beside him. The massive Machine God moved with a slow, deliberate grace, his heavy brass footsteps echoing like thunder through the empty, frozen halls. The blinding light of the cosmic forge burning within Ignis's chest provided a warm, localized glow that pushed back the suffocating darkness of the bunker.
