The morning sun did not shine on Zephyria.
Lucifer stood on the high balcony of the central keep. He looked up at the iridescent pearl-like dome of the planetary shield.
The sky beyond the barrier was a thick suffocating blanket of dark gray.
Ash was falling.
It drifted down from the upper atmosphere in massive heavy flakes. It coated the outside of the magical dome and slid down the curved energy field like dirty snow.
The surface of the earth fifty thousand feet below was dead. There were no oceans, no forests, and no kingdoms. It was a silent molten graveyard.
Lucifer did not mourn it.
He turned away from the railing. His void-swirling eyes locked onto the central courtyard.
Thirteen million survivors had awakened. The conscripted Royal Guards, the mercenaries, and the refugees were packed onto the black stone.
They stared out past the walls of the floating city. They saw the gray ash covering their invisible sky. They realized the horrifying undeniable truth.
