The battle was over, but the damage was everywhere. The Obsidian Spire, once a shining needle of black glass, looked like a tooth that had been left to rot. The walls were covered in a thick, sticky black mold. The ozone smell that Elijah loved was gone, replaced by the heavy, sweet scent of the Prince of Rot. Inside the Hive, 12,000 people were holding their breath. They were safe from the giant demon, but they were still trapped in a poisoned house.Elijah stood in the center of the Great Hall. His new form was terrifying. He was taller than he had been as a human, his skin a matte-black obsidian that seemed to suck the light out of the room. But now, he was different. Faint, glowing purple veins moved under his skin like little rivers of lightning. His eyes were no longer one gold and one black. They were both a deep, royal purple.He felt the power of the Prince of Rot inside him. It was a cold, heavy energy that wanted to break things. But he also felt the starlight of the Ang

The Obsidian Spire stood at the center of the world like a needle made of frozen night. At its very peak, two thousand feet above the ground, there was no roof. There were no walls. There was only a flat circle of dark glass, protected by a thin, shimmering veil of starlight.Elijah sat in the center of this circle. He was not sitting on his throne. He was sitting on the floor, his obsidian legs crossed, his hands resting on his knees. He looked like a statue, but inside, his mind was racing.He was no longer just a man named Elijah. He was the Destroyer-King. The purple veins on his arms hummed with the power of a dead Prince. The gold light in his chest glowed with the power of a stolen star. But most importantly, he was connected. He was plugged into the World-Heart Fragment at the base of the tower.Elijah closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the gray fog or the black walls. He wanted to see everything.He pushed his consciousness down the 200-story shaft, through the roots of

The city of Chicago was once a place of tall buildings, loud trains, and millions of people. Now, it was a graveyard of rusted iron and broken glass. But in the center of this graveyard, there was a light.Elijah flew through the cold, gray sky. His six wings—now a mix of violet, silver, and shadow—did not make a sound. He looked down at the "Deadlands" below. He saw the red mud. He saw the piles of old cars. He saw the Hollows wandering in the streets like lost dogs.But as he reached the center of the city, the red mud stopped.A wall of white stone rose out of the rubble. It was fifty feet high and perfectly clean. There was no moss. There was no rust. Behind the wall, the skyscrapers were not broken. They were covered in white paint and golden banners."New Eden," Elijah whispered.This was the silver flare he had seen on his map. It was a massive settlement. It looked like a paradise.Elijah landed on top of a ruined bridge a mile away. He folded his wings and pulled his hood ove

The smoke from the broken Soul-Battery hung over the square of Chicago like a golden curtain. The twenty thousand people were no longer singing. They were coughing. They were looking at their hands. They were feeling the cold wind of the real world for the first time in years.Brother Thomas, or rather, the man named Tom, was on his knees. His silver armor was cracked. His golden halo was flickering like a dying lightbulb. He looked at Elijah, and his eyes were full of a terrible, shaking confusion. The "Silver Leash" was gone, but the ghost of it still hurt his neck.Elijah stood over him. He was a giant of obsidian and violet fire. He looked down at the broken Saint. He didn't see an enemy. He saw a mirror. "Get up, Tom," Elijah said.His voice was not a rumble this time. He used his new "Logic" to make his voice sound soft. He wanted to talk.Elijah raised his hand. He didn't hit anything. He used his Black Eye to draw a circle in the air.Fwhoosh.A dome of absolute darkness erup

After leaving the golden ash of Chicago, Elijah did not return to the Spire. He could feel the weight of the 20,000 souls he had linked to his heart. It was a heavy, humming pressure in the back of his mind. But the mission. Recruit or Reclaim, was not finished. The Archon of Wisdom was watching. The World-Eaters were coming. He needed more than just a legion of soldiers. He needed specialists. He needed the ones who had refused to bend to anyone.He turned his wings toward the East. He flew over the great, dark ocean, where the water was no longer blue but a deep, oily black. Below him, massive shadows moved in the deep, the Primordial Beasts waking up from their long sleep. Elijah ignored them. He was looking for a specific signal.A silver flare, flickering and sharp, located in the ruins of Tokyo.Elijah arrived as the bruised purple sky of the Deadlands turned into a heavy, rainy night.Tokyo was not like Chicago or Empire’s Reach. It was not a pristine white sanctuary. It was