It was the sort of building architects designed after being given an unlimited budget and what was probably an untreated god complex.
Twin spires climbed from a shared obsidian base, long curved blades of glass and steel that looked less constructed than summoned.
Light clung to them strangely.
Moonlight, city glow, the cold cyan strips sunk into the edges—everything reflected and slid and pulsed until the whole structure seemed faintly alive, like it was breathing in money and exhaling intimidation.
Infinity pools glimmered on suspended terraces, turquoise and perfectly still, because naturally a building like this needed decorative water features hanging in the air several hundred feet above ground just to make gravity feel poor.
Palm trees lined the lower levels with the expensive confidence of landscaping that had never once feared drought.
