*A month after the battle of the Western Front*
*POV: Loriel*
Just a few hours ago, I could still smell the acrid odor of sulfur, the heat of demonic blood and the sweat on Alexander's skin. Here, in the upper strata of Paradise, there was only the immaculate whiteness of celestial marble, the sterile smell of divine incense and that constant golden light, which left no room for shadows.
I walked down the long corridor leading to the Council Hall, my wings folded nervously against my back. My white silk tunic brushed against the crystal floor, but my mind was elsewhere, lost in the memories of our clandestine nights under the command tent at Tenebris.
Alexander... Sulyvhan... Every time I thought of him, a forbidden heat ran under my skin, a sensation that the other angels would have called corruption, but which I knew to be the only real thing in this world of simulacra.
