The obsidian skies of Hell deepened as Lucifer descended, the jagged spires of Hades' realm rising from the infernal landscape like the broken teeth of a slumbering titan. The air was thick with ash and the faint, acrid tang of sulfur, but unlike the raw chaos of the other circles, this domain carried an eerie stillness, as though the dead themselves dared not disturb the sovereign who ruled here.
Lucifer's wings cut through the air with deliberate precision, each powerful beat rippling the fabric of the darkness around him. His descent was swift but measured, his crimson eyes narrowing as the grand gates of Hades' fortress came into view. Carved from blackened stone, they loomed like the maw of some ancient beast, flanked by statues of grim-faced shades holding scales in their skeletal hands.
