The golden shores of the celestial threshold were completely littered with the broken, scattered remains of the King's elite vanguard. The terrifying Seraphim angels had been violently reduced to smoking piles of silver armor and rapidly dissipating static electricity.
Valeria did not pause to inspect the dead. She stepped directly over the fallen commander of the heavenly host, her heavy combat boots leaving faint, ashen footprints across the solid metallic clouds. She kept her glowing amethyst eyes locked entirely on the massive, looming structure dominating the blinding white horizon.
The palace of the High Pantheon was not a traditional fortress of heavy stone and defensive battlements. It was a sprawling, chaotic nightmare of aggressive, impossible architecture.
