Lucifer continued unhurried, at a languid pace, the same pace he crossed the Corridor at.
The Corridor filled with the sound of armour finding stone -- the percussion of chest-pieces and pauldrons and greaves arriving separately, each unit's collapse happening in its own sequence, the light moving through them one after another in the steady progression of a tide advancing across a beach.
Forty units, sixty.
The ash rising from each in a brief column that drifted into the columns rising from the adjacent units, the ash of the vanguard mingling in the air above the floor in slow curtains that the leyline-light below turned gold as they rose....
The Corridor's cold turned pale as they settled.
A unit at the left edge caught the column's margin. Just a brush for half a second.
