As the sun began its descent, painting the horizon in hues of amber and crimson, Bast stood atop a desolate hill, her silhouette sharp against the fiery sky. Her arms were folded, her midnight robes billowing gently in the evening breeze. Her sharp, golden eyes remained fixed on the distant waters of the Red Sea, now calm and serene as if they had not just been a site of devastation. A faint smirk played at her lips, though there was no triumph in her gaze—only a strange, quiet mix of satisfaction and unease.
The soft crunch of footsteps behind her broke her reverie. She did not turn but tilted her head slightly, a subtle acknowledgment of the presence she already knew was there. The faint scent of brimstone mingled with the cooling air as Lucifer approached, his movements deliberate, his boots stirring the dry earth beneath him.
