The stars were not the tiny jewels set in a giant velvet dome, as they were in the night sky he'd gazed upon every night. Here, there was no sky above, no surrounding sphere. Each star was a point of perfect light against perfect blackness, an infinite and empty void with countless tiny holes through which shone the brilliance from a realm beyond.
Lucien looked around him and marvelled. His feet stood over nothing and he could see below what he saw above him.
He was dead. That much he knew because Traxdart had demanded his life as a sacrifice to revive Syryn. He was an equal exchange measured by the weight of his soul.
"Demon, I have been waiting for you."
